NationStates Jolt Archive

The full membership of NATO was being summoned by the Quinntonian government finally to speak and decide on many issues. The Summit would be held not in Washington D.C., the sight of the great summit victories of the late Jesse Obed, and the summit failures of PM Vanessa Moerike, but wanting to start fresh and new, PM Moerike would try to capitalize on the perceived success of her foreign tour and get all of her ducks in a row on the allied front.
The SEATO membership would be invited as advisors, should they chose to attend, and this would be a summit that occurred in the mornings; and with a WEC membership conference in the evening. The agenda would be as follows:

1. New Membership Applications
2. Current World Events
3. Public Statements
WWJD
Amen.

OOC: I'll participate, obviously, but what's going on/where is it?

Essentially, it will be in New York, I forgot to mention that in the above post. Just waiting for others to come and participate. Mainly, we have to wait for Royce.

WWJD
Amen.

OOC: Okay, I'll post my delegation's presence now so I don't forget.

IC:

John F. Kennedy Int'l Airport

Chancellor Sir Andrew Strathairn's job concerned the movement of money within the government, or so it was assumed by those reading his Wikipedia article. He really had no business running foreign policy for the British government, and ought to spend his time in London looking after the Empire's vast and complex finance system. Indeed, there was someone to do that job, Deputy Chancellor Arthur Lowe.

Strathairn was, despite his title and job description, unfolding his lanky frame from the 747's delightfully plush Executive class seat. He smelled his first breath of clear air in hours, having sat through an entire trans-Atlantic flight breathing bottled, recycled stuff carried by the great aircraft. His journey, courtesy of British Airways, had been exceptionally nice. If there was one airline that could be counted on for service, it was BA. Even so, it would be nice to stretch his legs, have a stroll around Manhattan and take in the sights. After all, Chancellors of the Exchequer didn't need to worry about safety quite as much as heads of state, and Strathairn intended to enjoy his freedom.

First, though, there was a little matter of diplomacy to deal with. Christina should be here, he thought ruefully. Strathairn, for all his admitted skills at leadership, found conferences dull. He'd run the Australasian government like a small, tight-knit family with him at its head. His advisors were handpicked to question, observe, and think for themselves. He didn't like bureaucracy, and hated being surrounded by sycophants. Unfortunately, Britain's government wasn't quite molded to his idea of the world, and in the last few months Strathairn had put up with his share of irritation, incompetence and bluster. Several hours more of it-- from national leaders and their aides no less-- didn't really appeal.

But he crammed himself inside the waiting limousine nonetheless, determined not to show his reluctance to attend. Previous meetings with these leaders-- Prime Minister Moerike, Emperor Royce I and Gunter Schultz-- had shown them to be essentially capable, charming and agreeable. It oughtn't be too bad.

The first thing that Matthias Mousa, deputy foreign minister of Greece, noticed when his private jet landed at the JFK airport was not the tall buildings or the Statue of Liberty, rather, he noticed a massive sign greeting “The Esteemed Minister Kakos.” Clearly the Quinntonians had not gotten the memo stating that Kakos would be unable to make it to the meeting, as he was needed to deal with the Turks. Well, it is the thought that counts, Mousa thought to himself.

The second thing that stuck in Mousa mind came as his small motorcade drove him to the Waldorf-Astoria hotel where he would stay. As they drove toward it, something hit his car, and cracked. Suddenly, more and more of this golfball sized projectiles were zeroing in on his car, and a originally dull roar outside became progressively louder, transforming into a single voice chanting for peace. That is when Mousa noticed what exactly it was that the protesters were throwing: eggs.

Mousa unpacked his baggage when he got to his room on the top floor of the Waldorf-Astoria when he spyed a small slip of paper on his nightstand. It read:

“Minister Kakos!

It is the pleasure of the Waldorf-Astoria hotel to serve you during your stay here in the great city of New York. If there is anything that you would like in order to make your stay more enjoyable, please do not hesitate to tell us. Also, the manager of the hotel has invited you to use his office for research if any is needed, the key is in the drawer. Once again, thank you for choosing the Waldorf-Astoria for your stay.

Sincerely,

The Hotel Staff.”

Mousa laughed.

Bumps

*dances*

*pokes Quinn*

Hold on. Let me join this thing before you get this thing rolling.

Er I guess we have to wait for Royce before we start this thing and that could be weeks or maybe even another month.

John F. Kennedy International Airport

A large well muscled white man with blonde hair and blue eyes dressed in an fine Caraceni suit stepped out of the airplane. He smiled widely for the media and walked down the ramp. Two large muscular men in suits wearing sunglasses waited for him and began walking with measured force through the media when he reached the bottom of the ramp. The flash of the cameras and the noise of the crowd did not seem to affect the two men. They walked forward mechanically with blank dispassionate faces and it seemed almost deliberate that they did not walk in step. The man following closely behind was the exact opposite of his two bodyguards. Every gesture and movement was filled with warmth and he continued to smile widely for the cameras. He seemed humble and sincerely surprised and flattered by all the attention. He spoke a few words to the press and said that he was most pleased to come to Quinntonia and was looking forward to his stay here. He was looking forward to meeting the other leaders and expected to accomplish much at this historic meeting. He continued repeating variations of that same message and smiling for the cameras as he and his guards plodded slowly but steadily onwards.

Soon they were past the crowds and they entered a limousine and sped away to their accommodations. As he sat down he found a folded note on the seat beside him. His two body guards were not paying any attention to him, sitting silently across from him. He leaned over and picked up the note and read it.

Arnwaltan, do not forget the hand that feeds.
Remember the screams of your predecessor.

Yours Truly,
Gunter Shultz

Arnwaltan smirked, crumbled the note in his strong hands and tossed it into his pocket.

Germany

A note was dispatched from the Chancellor’s Office to Prime Minister Moerike. It read, I regret that I am unable to join you. In my place I am sending a fine Christian lad Arnwaltan. It is my expectation that much will get accomplished at the summit. I will be keeping in touch. God’s blessings be upon you, Gunter Shultz

EDIT: Added in stuff to avoid making a double post