In a surprising about-face, President Donald Trump has abandoned plans to host the G-7 summit next summer at his Miami resort after Congressional Republicans told him doing business for profit with foreign entities appeared to violate the Constitution.
With only cursory amounts of pouting and rage-tweeting, Trump said although Trump National Doral (“Come for the heat; stay for the heat AND humidity”) was clearly the best choice for the prestigious gathering of world leaders, he would instruct his staff to find another venue.
The ease and, dare I say it, grace with which Trump moved on was, putting it mildly, uncharacteristic. I don’t trust it. Which is why I suspect Trump will “show them” by hosting the summit at world-famous South of the Border off I-95 at the North Carolina/South Carolina state line.
“They could’ve had the finest accommodations—many have said on the entire planet, suckit Dubai—but, well, the Demoncrats wouldn’t let me…”
Instead of a luxury breakfast of lobster benedict and lingonberry crepes at one of Doral’s many elegant restaurants, foreign leaders will sprint across the asphalt to dine at Pedro’s, which they have no doubt been dreaming about ever since seeing those signs for “Pedro’s Weather Forecast: Chili today; Hot Tamale!”
Warned Trump: “Your wife may be asking, “Daaaahling, where is the caviar?” but they don’t have that at South of the Border. There are only tah-KEE-toes. So many tah-KEE-toes…”
During breaks, world leaders can shop at Pedro’s gift emporium for discounted serapes instead of the understated forest green Trump hats and golf shirts found at Doral. If the chicken necks last, dignitaries may visit Pedro’s alligator pond and ponder the usefulness of border moats!
Oh, if only Trump could wangle a special invite for bestie Kim, who would surely clap his pudgy, murderous hands together at the sight of South of the Border’s Rocket City fireworks, a massive warehouse of explosives catering to sunburned tourists who can’t buy this stuff legally back home.
And while guests at the Doral might enjoy stress-reducing spa treatments, there’s really nothing like the view from the Sombrero Tower to put life in perspective as you take selfies on the sombrero’s brim/observation deck. Who needs a eucalyptus wrap when you can pay $2 to see I-95 framed by miles of scrub pine and substandard housing?
Oh, how Trump will snicker as he watches world leaders clutch room keys and schlep their own bags to one of Pedro’s legendary “heir-conditioned” rooms at South of the Border.
“Get it, Macron?” Trump will say with a leer and a poke in the French president’s ribs. “Heir conditioned! It means…”
“Eeez obvious what it means Dahnold…” Macron will hiss. The French are so very ungrateful. They’re just like the Kurds, only with better bread.
Unlike the Doral’s glitzy suites, Pedro’s rooms offer world leaders the chance to park their limos in front of their rooms!
Yes, Trump’s up to something and it’s as plain as the view from the Sombrero Tower. Which is mighty plain.
Celia Rivenbark is a New York Times-bestselling author and columnist. Visit www.celiarivenbark.com.