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The Presidential Bar | The European Forum's Bar & Lounge

San Jose

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Named after the famous and/or infamous El Presidente of San José, José Constanza, the officially accepted story (and there are very, very many stories) is that, following his appointment in 2006 to become the Josefino European Forum Representative by his father, the then-President of San José, a formal protest was filed within the European Forum that no officially designated bar or lounge had been established for the representatives. After months of bureaucratic delays leading nowhere, the impulsive representative began stockpiling an empty room with various kinds of liquor, wines, and drafts along with rudimentary chairs and couches to unwind after a long day of diplomatic quarrels with other representatives. At first only Representative Constanza's friends and allies were invited to join him, but soon other representatives caught wind of the impromptu construction and began to get enthusiastically involved, petitioning their governments to contribute more international alcohols and furniture and joining the Josefino protest, eventually leading to the official establishment of The Presidential Bar in 2008, officially to celebrate the quality and quantity of alcohol that had accumulated, unofficially as an inside joke about the undemocratic nature of San José that the then-Representative Constanza would become the president after his father's death, a joke that came true many years later.

Rumors flow here much like the booze, including stories about El Presidente meeting his officially non-existent wife here in 1982 somehow, and those who take part are encouraged to leave their quarrels at the door and socialize instead, but that is more of a guideline than an actual rule, and fights have been known to break out from time to time. This explains the constant presence of European Forum Security to ensure representatives don't get too rowdy, and all here can enjoy some rest and relaxation.
 

San Jose

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With a heavy sigh, Representative Demetrio Verdugo seated himself at one of the many bar stools within the Presidential Bar and ordered his usual, a Josefino Libre using El Capitán brand Josefino rum, Natalian cola, and garnished with a lime wedge to create a refreshing, pleasant cocktail, and he began sipping it as he reflected upon the latest vote in the European Forum. He made sure to order a taster glass of the St. George Rum Colony as well, as per tradition, in order to spit in it and leave it untouched thereafter. The bitter rivalry between Josefino and Guyenasque rum companies remained in full swing after all, and that war was nowhere near over.

The Mandate system was officially abolished, a huge part of San José's foreign policy had finally been accomplished, and it had the potential to bring independence and freedom to large swathes of people throughout the exploited lands of Europe. At least, that was the official story that was going to be told at home. In reality, Representative Verdugo knew that what would happen instead would be that these mandates would be officially annexed or otherwise made into puppet states with a vaguely independent aura around them. There was no way most of the Corrupt Old World was going to allow the peoples a truly free and fair mandate to decide their fates. Sir Alexander Bellamy of @Guienny had made it quite clear this was going to open the door to a neo-19th century colonial land grab for at least his nation, and he had little doubt that, behind the pleasant words of Nevena Vladimirovic of @Serbovia and Master Baron Boris Bakhmeteff of @Tarusa, they too weren't going to let the Thrakians actually get any true independence. Not even the Pelasgians or Eiffellanders were above suspicion from Verdugo they'd actually, truly follow through.

It was, in short, a major policy success that would be corrupted into something even worse than it began.

But Verdugo had held his tongue, he was told to by El Presidente himself. Appearances were half the battle and he wasn't allowed to derail this plan no matter how many flaws he saw in it, because it was good for San José, at least in the short term, to at least appear to be on the right side of history. And besides, there was a potential new job in store for him if he behaved, and behave he did. All he had to do now was wait.

'Hopefully not for long...' he thought to himself as he sipped his drink. 'Anything to get me out of here sooner...'
 
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Serbovia

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Deputy Representative Slavisa Bacic had had a relatively rough evening celebrating the most recent achievements of Serbovian foreign policy, specifically the repatriation of the three Eugenian enclaves of Serboves and the passing of the abolishment of the EF Mandates System. The latter had actually been an idea of the Pelasgians and almost certain to pass anyhow, but Bacic wanted to find the positive side of it. Greater Serbovia would soon be a reality and in his enthusiasm he was sure to let everyone else know as well. More than that, Serbovia's former Foreign Minister Aleksandar Plesic - the superior of his own superior - had ascended to the role of President. Certainly, this called for a celebration.

His one-man house party had been spent consuming various alcoholic drinks, including Serbovian rakija, Tarusan vodka and numerous bottles of beer of differing styles and countries of origin, and repeatedly playing the Serbovian national anthem and various military marches with his home theatre system tuned up to the maximum volume. Eventually, repeated complaints by angry neighbors had forced him to vacate his apartment and Bacic had found his way to the Presidential Bar.

He had also tried calling Representative Vladimirovic several times to invite her to join him, but his superior had apparently decided to ignore his calls. A shame. Bacic found her decent-looking enough even if he knew that she was happily married.

Slavisa Bacic walked in to the Presidential Bar. He took note that the Josefino representative, Mr. Verdugo was present, as were some lower functionaries from countries and organizations that he didn't remember. Bristling with rakija-fuelled self-confidence, Bacic walked up to the bar desk, waving his Distribank Platinum credit card about.

"Bartender! I'll buy vodka shots for everyone!", Bacic proclaimed, and the bartender was quick to produce several bottles of Tarusan vodka and shot glasses from behind the counter, "Let us toast for the glory of President Plesic and the glory of Greater Serbovia!"
 

Oesgália

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The Oesgàlian analysts shattered and split after vodka rounds were shot out by Serbovians.

"We can get coconut water from the Josepanians if one of us admits the Holy Land belongs to them . . ." a Oesgàlian said between a violent burp, "We descend from pirates too, you know, and we can return to the . . the thing . . that, it's a crusade where we pirate, but we lost. Can we get a coconut water before we leave?"
 

Serbovia

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Bacic noticed that the Oesgálians were not particularly enjoying the vodka.

"Guys, guys, guys. Not thinking about leaving, are we?", he said to the Oesgalian group, "Now where's the fun in that? For real though, I'll buy you a coconut water, only it comes with vodka and you're definitely not quitting early!"
 

San Jose

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Deputy Representative Slavisa Bacic had had a relatively rough evening celebrating the most recent achievements of Serbovian foreign policy, specifically the repatriation of the three Eugenian enclaves of Serboves and the passing of the abolishment of the EF Mandates System. The latter had actually been an idea of the Pelasgians and almost certain to pass anyhow, but Bacic wanted to find the positive side of it. Greater Serbovia would soon be a reality and in his enthusiasm he was sure to let everyone else know as well. More than that, Serbovia's former Foreign Minister Aleksandar Plesic - the superior of his own superior - had ascended to the role of President. Certainly, this called for a celebration.

His one-man house party had been spent consuming various alcoholic drinks, including Serbovian rakija, Tarusan vodka and numerous bottles of beer of differing styles and countries of origin, and repeatedly playing the Serbovian national anthem and various military marches with his home theatre system tuned up to the maximum volume. Eventually, repeated complaints by angry neighbors had forced him to vacate his apartment and Bacic had found his way to the Presidential Bar.

He had also tried calling Representative Vladimirovic several times to invite her to join him, but his superior had apparently decided to ignore his calls. A shame. Bacic found her decent-looking enough even if he knew that she was happily married.

Slavisa Bacic walked in to the Presidential Bar. He took note that the Josefino representative, Mr. Verdugo was present, as were some lower functionaries from countries and organizations that he didn't remember. Bristling with rakija-fuelled self-confidence, Bacic walked up to the bar desk, waving his Distribank Platinum credit card about.

"Bartender! I'll buy vodka shots for everyone!", Bacic proclaimed, and the bartender was quick to produce several bottles of Tarusan vodka and shot glasses from behind the counter, "Let us toast for the glory of President Plesic and the glory of Greater Serbovia!"

Representative Verdugo rolled his eyes in response to the call for a toast to imperialism and irredentism of Serbovia, confirming at least in part his cynical suspicions over Serbovian enthusiasm to the abolition of the European Forum Mandate System. It was an immensely regrettable affair that San José's principles were being mercilessly corrupted by Old Worlders such as Deputy Representative Bacic, and Verdugo could only pray his assigned time in the European Forum would come to a close as soon as possible.

While he waited though, he wouldn't say no to free booze, even if it was shitty Tarusan vodka, and could get in some of his own subtle digs and jabs.

"Only if that toast is followed by another, Deputy Representative!" He replied, accepting the filled shot glass from the bartender. "A toast to El Presidente, the Peacemaker of Gallo-Germania, and the inevitable downfall of the Global Exploitation Conspiracy!"

If he had to swallow Old World nonsense, he'd make sure to chase it with some New World decency whenever and wherever possible.
 

Serbovia

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Deputy Representative Bacic erupted in a raucous laughter, in the process spilling vodka from his shot glass all over his suit. His drunken laughter bellowed all over the bar, drawing surprised looks from other bar patrons. The Deputy Representative was almost bent forwards in a ninety-degree angle with his outburst of amusement. He managed to collect himself, and patted Verdugo on the back.

"The Explosion Conspiracy! I like the sound of that. Did you come up with it all by your own?"
 

Gutarike

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Lena Johansson sat in the corner a bit disgusted at the barbaric rancor from the other members at the bar. She sat reading a financial magazine from Vrijpoort that was covering the environmental degradation in the Zaras region due to the increased military activity. The wolf population was nearly eliminated in the region as soldiers often shot them for sport.

She nursed a glass of wine from Solléga which she found a bit sweet, but refreshing. Returning to her news article have hearing about an explosion conspiracy, it was like a game of telephone... she assumed the next childish remark would be phallic.
 

Pelasgia

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Antonios Antoniou was half-set on leaving the bar when, out of the blue, he spotted the unmistakable sight of an old acquaintance: Lena Johansson! The diplomat from Gutarike whom he had not seen since his very first overseas diplomatic appointment as a mere minister plenipotentiary Lord-knows how many years prior. Indeed, it took several glances from a few angles before he was sure of who it was--they had both gotten quite a bit older, Antonios himself gaining a slight beer gut that came together with the obligatory family photo in his wallet.​
Still, an old friend was always a familiar sight. With a bright smile, he walked up to his old acquaintance whiskey-in-hand and intruded as politely as possible.​
"Excuse me," he said. "You wouldn't be Lena Johansson by any chance?"​
 

San Jose

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Deputy Representative Bacic erupted in a raucous laughter, in the process spilling vodka from his shot glass all over his suit. His drunken laughter bellowed all over the bar, drawing surprised looks from other bar patrons. The Deputy Representative was almost bent forwards in a ninety-degree angle with his outburst of amusement. He managed to collect himself, and patted Verdugo on the back.

"The Explosion Conspiracy! I like the sound of that. Did you come up with it all by your own?"
'Dios mio...' Representative Verdugo grumbled as he witnessed Deputy Representative Bacic's reaction, the sourness in his face deepening with each pat on his shoulder.

"Exploitation, you flaccid nationalist." Verdugo snarled. "Get your head out of the vodka barrel and pay attention for once. If you're too drunk to toast to someone actually fighting for the people like El Presidente, perhaps my taste for vodka is too absent to toast President Plesic."

Verdugo was nowhere near drunk enough to tolerate these shenanigans at the moment, though it was debatable whether or not more alcohol would actually soothe his irritation over the day's events in the Forum. More likely it'd be akin to pouring jet fuel on smoldering embers: someone was going to get burned.
 

Guienny

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Sir Bellamy snickered from his seat. "By golly! The youth and its openness for conspiracies, hearsay, and revolution. You'll just accept anything the internet tells you." He chuckled as he nursed his cognac. While the Engellexic folk enjoyed scotch, Guienny just hadn't the climate, or perhaps expertise for it. Cognac was a suitable replacement and something it was very famous for. Sir Bellamy had ensured that the Presidential Bar always had a suitable stock.
 

Eiffelland

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Normally the Eiffellandians did go to the Presidential Bar to enjoy a few drinks, but Roland Hörschelmann had stopped doing so. He really did not feel like having to deal with drunk Serbovians and Tarusans; they were already irritating and impolite enough when they were sober. And the Frankish had become too arrogant and too full of themselves lately.

But a few years after the Presidential Bar opened, the Eiffellandian delegation decided to open something else: A clinic to treat alcohol intoxications and cases of acute pancreatitis, as well as to clean and stitch up wounds after fights, to give tetanus jabs, to treat cut-through wrist tendons and to repose broken bones. Meanwhile the clinic had evolved into a full-fledged hospital. There are even rumours that the Eiffellandians flew in a surgical team once to perform an emergency liver transplant on a diplomat who suffered from a fulminant hepatitis B infection. But still the most common patients were victims from fights in the Presidential Bar, and cases of alcohol intoxication and acute pancreatitis.
 

Serbovia

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'Dios mio...' Representative Verdugo grumbled as he witnessed Deputy Representative Bacic's reaction, the sourness in his face deepening with each pat on his shoulder.

"Exploitation, you flaccid nationalist." Verdugo snarled. "Get your head out of the vodka barrel and pay attention for once. If you're too drunk to toast to someone actually fighting for the people like El Presidente, perhaps my taste for vodka is too absent to toast President Plesic."

Verdugo was nowhere near drunk enough to tolerate these shenanigans at the moment, though it was debatable whether or not more alcohol would actually soothe his irritation over the day's events in the Forum. More likely it'd be akin to pouring jet fuel on smoldering embers: someone was going to get burned.

"Flaccid, you say? If my manners and judgement were lacking, I would make a comment related to your mother, but being the paragon of good behavior that I am, I shall refrain from doing so", Bacic said and gave a wink of an eye to Verdugo, "Still, I suppose that I must thank you for your support for the repatriation of lost Serbovian territories. It has been highly valuable."
 

San Jose

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"Flaccid, you say? If my manners and judgement were lacking, I would make a comment related to your mother, but being the paragon of good behavior that I am, I shall refrain from doing so", Bacic said and gave a wink of an eye to Verdugo, "Still, I suppose that I must thank you for your support for the repatriation of lost Serbovian territories. It has been highly valuable."

"You're too kind, I'm sure the willpower you exhibited to achieve that restraint must have been titanic." Verdugo responded with a sneer. "And that was never the point. Serbovia and Tarusa and all these other nations of the Old World have been treating these mandates as pseudo-colonies for decades. It's six decades overdue to give these people a say in their own affairs and a chance at true independence."

Verdugo ordered another Josefino Libre, pointedly ignoring the shot of vodka that remained without a toast. "It is frustrating that you imperialists, revanchists, and neo-colonials simply will not accept you are in the twenty-first century and continue to find ways to manipulate that voice into fulfilling your own selfish desires. Therefore, I do not accept your thanks, nor do I intend to toast to a manipulative imperialist like President Plesic nor an imperialist revanchist state of Greater Serbovia. My conscience will remain clear in that regard, at the very least."
 
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