1, 2, 3, 4…, By Sara Spring

Flags bearing the crest of each country from all over the world hung upon the walls of the archaic room in which a short fat bald man stood at the front and center addressing an expressionless assortment of diplomats seated before him at a u-shaped table. During the beginning ceremony each person had smiled, kissed and bowed to one another within the parameters of an agreed upon fashion. They all acknowledged generosities from allies, rebuking one another for neglect and chastised inappropriate games that in the end resulted in costing money and lives unnecessarily.  It was a dance like ritual, conducted primarily to remind themselves of common missions, past favors only to be swept aside or manipulated in asking for assistance- it was a dance lasting long into the night and well into the next few days. While governments were made and promises broken, espionage operated under the demise for the greater good and with it many currents of long running tensions remained grossly embedded in fabric of these meetings, flowing like a passive undercurrent as diplomats dined together. Through the lies and rip tide currents, occasionally the somber mood became lifted a single most identifiable emotion: laughter.

During one of these evens, one particular issue was not found to be easily resolved concerning two countries in the Middle East and an airport. The circumstances were simple: one country had issued strict orders for their airport to restrict humanitarian air carriers from providing any help for the bordering country which did not have an airport of their own. For some this allowed common sense to become enshrouded by centuries of feuding.  After more than a few hours of debate, conjecture and persuasion every diplomat in attendance became exhausted of the issue, itching to address their own domestic disputes in an international setting.

Falling asleep, the President of the United States jerked himself awake to the sounds of voices strained and heated. Enough of the political war of words he stood up, raising his long and slender hand to speak. The two diplomats who had been pulling the ear of everyone seated  turned their red faces towards his direction in surprise, stopping their argument to hear what he had to say. The President leaned towards the microphone before him and with serious eyes, asked each gentleman to raise their right hand. Gesturing for them to each make a fist and leave their thumbs up, the two diplomats squared off and glared menacingly towards one another. One man bared his teeth and the other growled. The air was thick with tension as centuries of pride was at stake as where many citizens whose only sin was being born in the wrong country. These same citizens dying of starvation while their officials, fat on the rich tastes of their own, bickered over an airport that would bring them medical and food aid from countries allied with its enemy. It was the argument for the intellectual ego and an argument for those with their citizen’s best interest in mind, all of it for the sake of freedom and Gomorrah.

The two men glared as the others in the room began to awake from their intellectual slumber and perk up to watch the battle about the ensue. The two men held one another’s fist tight with their thumbs exposed upright as the President of the United States raised his hand while taking out his antique stop watch, shouting, “Go!”  The two men lunged into awkward motions  beginning a tumultuous fight. Together they twisted their bodies in an effort to capture the others thumb. It was war, punctuated with gasps and grunts, yelps of distress and all the while the two men wrangled with each other’s fingers while displaying distorted expressions upon their faces.

Suddenly, a silence fell over every one and the President of the United States clicked hard on the top of his stop watch. He counted, “1,2,3,4…” What followed was a shout of victory and with it came a head hung low in disappointment. The thumb of one man had been held down for more than a few seconds and with it was born a verdict: The airport would be forever shut off to the neighboring country until the Thumb War was won back by the Leader whose citizens remained starving and dying.

As the dispute was now resolved, the conference moved on to other challenges. The next topic was directed at France, whose leader stood in the center of the room with his fist and thumb prominent. He challenged all in the room who did not agree with his policy to ban Barkas to fight him with thumbs and the best score would be the direction he would follow. It was France against all in opposition; the diplomat believed that his long thumbs would speak volumes more than his ideals and he offered to be shown otherwise. Germany was first to contest, next came Sweden, Britain and China -then the President of the United States stood up. As newly elected to the office, he had yet to fight with his thumbs but as he was a looming six foot ten inches this war may not be much of an issue for him. He towered over the five foot nine inch tall French diplomat and held out his right hand, thumb exposed.