I’m So Excited…And I Just Can’t Hide It
If I had to pick just one word to describe how I am feeling at this very moment – the first day back from NATO – I would say grateful. Grateful, that in my late 40s, I continue to experience such absolutely epic adventures: things I couldn’t have cooked up even in my wildest dreams. And while the word “epic” is certainly overused and is generally an exaggeration, it is indeed the perfect and a very genuine word to describe this past week’s events in DC.
The NATO Summit hasn’t been held in the US in 12 years, so when I found out it was coming to Washington this year, I knew I had to at least attempt to get in. But why?
If you already know what “Slowjamastan” is, then you can skip to the next paragraph, but if you don’t…make sure you’re sitting down. And if you don’t think I’m already a weirdo, you’re about to.
Started from the Bottom
The short story: In 2021 I bought an 11-acre parcel of land in the middle of the California desert and started my own country. No, for real. I put up a big green sign on the side of the road that says “Republic of Slowjamastan,” set up a border checkpoint and gate, constructed the concrete “Independence Square” complete with a flag and monument and, of course, built out the website. Add in official currency, passports, a national anthem and a list of the most absurd laws you can ever think of (including a ban on Crocs and regulations on how to consume string cheese), and you have Slowjamastan. Oh, I almost forgot: and a dictator. That’s me. I’m “The Sultan.” The “Sultan” of Slowjamastan. In 2023, CNN picked up the story and overnight we became famous. No, really. Over 300 news stories in 100+ countries reported on this “new country” called Slowjamastan. And my life would never be the same.
Larger Than Life
I continued to push and push the envelope with this project, doing things that really went above and beyond this joke called Slowjamastan. There are many other “micronations” like us: fictional “countries” run by eccentric weirdos like me. But Slowjamastan began to do stuff that only real countries do: We bought a police car, a border patrol vehicle and even a fire truck.
We set up an official consulate in an office building. We began meeting with real, bonafide government officials: first the mayor of the small town of Brawley, California, then working our way up to San Diego‘s District Attorney (to work together on the Crocs epidemic, obviously). In Havana, I attended a lavish banquet for every foreign ambassador to Cuba and was even a guest of the Syrian Ambassador to Cuba at his embassy. We reached a registered citizen count of over 19,000 (although none actually “live” in Slowjamastan…gotta get this plumbing and electricity thing figured out first.) But yeah, here we are doing all these things that really only “real” countries do. But could we actually get into NATO??? Could we pull it off? I’d already been escorted out of NATO Headquarters in Brussels after showing up uninvited in my Sultan uniform in 2023. Would there be any way in hell I could actually finagle my way into the summit as a diplomat/leader/dictator of the world’s newest nation? Well I sure was going to try.
To Dream the Impossible Dream
A two-minute Google search and I’d struck gold, discovering the application portal to attend NATO Summit 2024. I applied. It was fairly straight forward but required lots of documentation – some of which I didn’t yet have, but proceeded to procure. The application came in two parts: first, NATO; second, the US Secret Service. Gathering all my documents in order to upload and apply took a couple weeks, but soon my app was completed and I received confirmation that it was processing. Then, the waiting game. It wasn’t until months later – just four days before the summit – that my credentials were unlocked and I was holding a piece of paper admitting me into NATO. Holy cow!
Now Boarding All Rows All Zones
If I am the Batman of Slowjamastan, my boyhood friend and idol, Mark Corona, is my Robin. I am “The Sultan” and he is the Chief “Porder Batrol” Agent. Not a typo. Monday morning, we suited up and flew from San Diego to DC, in costume and in character. The journey to Washington itself could’ve been an episode on realty TV – it was hilarity from beginning to end. The look on people’s faces: priceless. Some just stare, others ask questions. We took a lot of selfies with folks. We caught many passengers “sneaking” photos. That first night we headed to see The Capitol Building before dinner at the hotel and bedtime. The big day would start early the next morning.
Day One
We started Tuesday morning with a tour of The White House. We’d start slow the first day — appearance-wise — donning simple black suits with ties and lapel flag pins. We looked “official” but not over the top. We didn’t want to get thrown out on the very first day! Let’s test the waters.
Clearance on Aisle Seven
After The White House tour, it was the moment of truth: Over to the National Press Building to (hopefully) pick up our credentials. The paper in our hand explained we could still be denied at anytime; I was a little worried we still might be grilled when we went to pick up our badges. Thankfully we just needed to show our IDs and 30 seconds later, we were strolling over to the convention center with our glorious NATO badges hung proudly from our necks. Was this actually happening? I cannot remember the last time I was this excited.
Over at the convention center, we began the security process, emptying our pockets, walking through metal detectors and getting wanded-down. After being escorted through the bowels of the building, down through underground corridors and past numerous Secret Service and security officers, we ascended into a giant area full of members of the media and journalists from all around the world. WE…WERE…IN!!! Our job today would be to blend in and go unnoticed, so we went straight to an open seat and quietly observed the summit for the next two hours. We wouldn’t stay too long…we had a party to attend later.
Places to go, People to see
Besides the actual NATO Summit itself, we’d booked a few other events to appear at. We needed a contingency plan in case we didn’t get into the summit – other things to keep us occupied. With a little luck and a great connections, Mark and I scored invitations to two, high-profile functions. Our first soirée was an off-campus event called NATO Into The Future. This was a mix of panels and presentations along with receptions before and after. We had no idea what to expect.
The gathering took place in an up-and-coming post-industrial area of the DC: A loading dock/warehouse that was transformed into one of those big, “open” workspaces. I forgot I’d went “all in” when registering a week ago, and was pleasantly surprised when the jumbo badge they handed us displayed “Randy Williams – Sultan – Republic of Slowjamastan“ and “Mark Corona – Chief Porder Batrol Agent – Republic of Slowjamastan.” An ex-senator who was checking in next to us glanced over and saw my badge. He asked what “Slowjamastan” was, and when I replied in character (did I mention The Sultan has an accent?), he scoffed: “That’s not a real country.” I was giggling inside but stayed straight faced during the entire exchange.
Oh, Behave
Let me be clear. I was not here to be an @sshole, attention seeker, distractor or disruption. The plan, from the start, was to act low-key and let the people approach us. And oh, how the plan worked! We immensely enjoyed conversing with the scores of folks who came up to us throughout the function, asking where we were from, or, after seeing our badges, “Where is Slowjamastan?” These inquiries ranged from attendees who legitimately believed we were visiting from some far off Central-Asian nation, to others who knew something was off and had to satisfy their curiosity. These were government contractors, start-up entrepreneurs, ex-CIA agents, NATO and White House policy makers and even congressmen. The takeaway, for the most part, was that just about everyone was just so cool and seemed to be tickled by the whole thing. Our m.o. was not to just start telling our story: We simply allowed each inquisitive contestant to ask us the questions. Two or three answers in, most were in stitches, some driven to tears and continuing to dive deeper and deeper into the rabbit hole with more queries. We’d usually end the conversation by slipping the person a few “Dubles” (our currency) and encouraging them to visit Slowjamastan, “first drink on us.” We endeavored to “leave them wanting more.”
The More You Know
The presentations themselves were incredibly interesting and educational. There were talks and panels including Finland‘s Minister of Defense, the former US Secretary of the Army and a handful of other muckety-mucks and Washington big-wigs. I learned a lot and saw some cool technology, including a presentation on the world’s biggest plane, coming soon, from an aeronautical company called Radia. One of the best speakers was Miles Taylor, former Department of Homeland Security Chief of Staff and turned out to be just one of the coolest dudes to us. It would not surprise me if he has already signed up to be a citizen of Slowjamastan. We loved that guy! I cannot underscore how cool everyone was at this event and how entertained they were by Slowjamastan. It was an amazing first day in Washington.
Day Two
The big event on Wednesday was our feature with DC’s WTOP News. We sent out press releases and packages to all of the major news outlets 10 days before the summit and Matt Kaufax from WTOP was the guy that totally “got us” from the jump. We’d meet Matt and National Park Services “Ranger Mike” Litterst for an interview and tour of some famous monuments. We had an incredible two-hours together, talking and walking around the National Mall, seeing The Washington Monument, Lincoln Memorial and more. Matt is a great reporter and a really fun guy and Ranger Mike was just the best – a government official who has a great sense of humor and likes to have fun. They were both just fantastic hosts.
Crowd Control
Not surprisingly, one of our favorite parts of the session was the hoards of people that approached us with greetings, handshakes, hugs, questions and requests for selfies. There were tons of tourists milling around from foreign countries and many of them truly believed we were foreign dignitaries. So fun! The only rough part was wearing that thick, heavy and multi-layered Sultan suit in the 90 degree-plus heat and that brutal humidity. DC was in the middle of a horrible heatwave, but we pushed through. It was so worth it. Here is Matt’s full report:
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Day Three
The only thing that would make this trip absolutely epic, was if we showed up to NATO in full uniform. The strategy was to attend the first day or two in plain clothes, blend in and assess the situation; and then, only on the third day – if we felt we might even have a chance – show up in full regalia. We certainly wouldn’t have chanced it on day one and risked not even getting in once. But now that we’ve been there and done that, it was time for the ultimate coup de grâce – to show up to the NATO Summit as “The Sultan” and “The Chief.”
We had no idea how we would be received at the entrance and, truth be told, Mark and I waffled back and forth on whether we should even attempt such a brazen act. It was only after the advice of some of the folks we met earlier this week – local officials who told us to “go for it” – that we decided to actually tempt fate. We rolled up on e-scooters, fully uniformed and donning our sunglasses, general’s cap, berét (for Mark) and non-descript foreign accents flowing flawlessly from our tongues. It was go-time.
Today, there was even more security than on day one, with a wider perimeter of not just “closed,” but fully caged-off roads, completely surrounding the convention center. Secret Service was everywhere, as we traversed up and down the sidewalks along the steel fences of the sealed streets, looking for the right entrance. The set-up was different than the first day, when our first checkpoint was the actual building. Now, a white tent was sent up at the entrance to one of the cordoned-off streets, staffed with not only Secret Service, but TSA agents as well. The extreme seriousness of the situation suddenly fell on me, and I was fully expecting to get turned right back around, if not physically dragged back into the public space, or even worse, ushered off to the police station to explain my actions.
Then, the most surprising part of the entire trip. I removed my metallic items from my pockets and placed them in the bin, then shocked when I was simply waved on through. “There must be more,” I wondered, as Mark and I exited through the other end of the tent into the secured and empty street. But there wasn’t. We were in. No questions asked. Is this really happening?
Still, I was fully expecting a second checkpoint or even a check-in desk. There’s no way we’re just strolling on into NATO in full costume. Yet when we approached the same doors we entered through on Monday, the welcome tables were deserted. There were only the signs outlining the path to the summit rooms. As we approached every corner, I fully expected another security check where we’d finally at least be questioned, but soon enough, we were actually walking straight into the main media center, humming with hundreds of reporters and journalists from around the world. And this was the exact point in time I was truly convinced I was in a dream.
Keep Calm and Stroll On
Mark and I acted as stoic and low-key as we possibly could, mustering up all the discipline we could manage to act cool, calm and collected, as we walked straight through the masses of reporters and to the other side of the room. We wanted to do our very best to appear, act and look like a couple of actual world leaders and not characters from Comic-Con. What happened next, we could never have imagined.
Suddenly, a journalist with a big mic and audio/visual crew approach us and ask for an interview. And just like that, Mark and I are introducing The Republic of Slowjamastan to the world via the Turkish media.
Next met with journalists from North Macedonia, Georgia, Azerbaijan, England, Italy and more. I lost track of the number of interviews, questions, and selfies we took. Countless others snapped photos from across the room or stealthily sneaked video while walking past us. Those 30-40 minutes were some of the most memorable moments of my entire life. It’s something out of a movie like Catch Me If You Can. My life is complete.
We’ve Been Spotted
Something told me the fun couldn’t last all day. Things were just going a little too awesome. All of a sudden, the next person to approach us was not a member of the media, but one of the heads of security for NATO. The tall, silver-headed, sixty-something man was a mixture of disciplinarian and gracious host. He wanted to know who we were, what we were doing here, and most of all – why we were dressed like this. He was expertly paying two roles: The first, an authoritarian, extremely firm about us not being here in costume and explaining to us that we had to go; and at the same time showing great courtesy and respect and even a little small talk. He was extremely perplexed at just what we were doing here, and more so “how” we got in. It soon became apparent that he was under the impression we must have smuggled in our uniforms and changed into them in the bathroom after gaining access to the building. It took multiple attempts to convince him we were actually “let in” like this. Even though we were on the way out, he insisted we both remove our hats and glasses, and even my “Sultan coat.” I would’ve been annoyed or agitated had he not been so polite, but he really mastered the role of “good cop,” plus his English accent was just charming AF.
I will admit I was a little terrified he was going to take us into some underground, government police station/questioning area/holding cell to be interrogated by federal agents. I imagined being handcuffed and led to an interrogation room where we’d be grilled for hours by multiple Homeland Security agents, but soon it was apparent that he just wanted to escort us out…all the way out…out of the building and down the street, and completely through the security tent and back out onto the open streets with the rest of the commoners. He took no chance and made sure we completely exited the other side of the TSA/Secret Service tent and even then poking his head through the flaps of the tent to make sure we were on our way. The funny part was, once we were outside of the security tent, we were approached by a group of police who were amused by it all. They seemed tickled pink and asked to take selfies and videos and were just geeking out at the whole “Slowjamastan” thing – they couldn’t believe what they were seeing. After that final and oh-so-satisfying “meet and greet,” it was back on our trusty scooters to ride off into the sunset. What a thrill! And spoiler alert – this would not be our last time being escorted out of somewhere today!
I should note that the gentleman who escorted us out (Mark), was kind enough to explain that we could return anytime in normal clothes. It could have gone so much worse, and I just hope we’re not on “the list!”
We spent the next two hours whizzing around DC on those fun scooters meeting even more good spirited folks.
You’re Uninvited
We had one last private event to attend that final night in Washington. Outcomes for the Baltic, the Black Sea, and Asia Pacific Regions was a talk put on by The Bush School of Government & Public Service. For this, Mark and I both got spiffied-up in our uniforms and even secured our three Not-so-Secret Service agents to accompany us to the presentation. If tonight’s gettogether would be anything like the first one (NATO to the Future), we were in for a treat. However, we’d soon discover that the two events couldn’t have been anymore different.
Upon arrival, we were greeted with an overabundance of smiles and hospitality from the folks at the first-floor reception. These folks seemed genuinely happy to see us all – whether they thought we were real diplomats or knew it was all parody – this was the definition of “open arms.” I immediately detected a Brasilian accent from the young lady and asked, “Fala português?” And I was correct! The next five minutes were just wonderful as I practiced my extremely rusty Portuguese with Dilma while Mark and the rest of the entry staff palled around. Soon we were shown to the elevator and up to the tenth floor to join the program.
Stay Cool
Just like our entrance at NATO, the team was instructed to play it low-key tonight until we could feel things out. So we did. The room was very stiff. Quiet, like a library. Maybe 15-20 people there, all dressed in business casual, suits and a couple high-brass military officers in the starchiest of uniforms. This was not the hip, young “DC scene” from Tuesday’s party. There was no DJ spinning hip-hop music and groups of cool kids posing for Instagram shots with their cocktails. This group looked like high-brow Harvard intellectuals. Which was fine – we can adapt to any crowd – but certainly not a festive bunch.
Our Not-so-Secret Service gang spread out as Mark and I grabbed a drink at the hosted bar in the corner. We kept as low of a profile as we could in these uniforms, and talked to each other with the volume of pro-golf announcers. Only seconds later we were approached by man in a blazer who was not happy we were here.
“Alright guys, what is this? What are you trying to pull here?”
It immediately became obvious that the silver-haired man in a blue blazer was convinced we were here to cause trouble, which, of course we were not.
The man happened to be Jay Silveria, the executive director of The Bush School (our venue) and a retired lieutenant general in the United States Air Force. Here is the part where I need to disclose my utmost respect for our military. I respect everyone, really…but I hold our military to the absolutely highest regards.
As he continued to grill us on what our “intentions” were here, I could only repeat the truth – and in a non-joking, serious tone – that we were here to listen and learn and hopefully take something away from tonight’s discussions. He continued asking the same questions and was forthright in his hesitance of having us here tonight. We gave him our word we were not here to cause any disruptions and he soon left us. But we were not out of the woods.
Soon after, a female professor approached us with a warm smile and an inquiry about our uniforms. We had a seven-minute conversation with her and she was just delightful. The people were warming up to us.
Guess Who’s Back…Back Again?
Minutes later the general reappears with his sidekick. Mr. Silveria, while concerned, was still halfway pleasant. His lady friend, on the other hand, had the social graces of the Gestapo, even refusing to shake my hand. She mad. It was at this moment they asked us to send our Not-so-Secret Service staff home. So we did. Again, we didn’t want any problems and were determined to be the perfect guests. Sadly, this wasn’t enough, as before I could even finish my first glass of Cabernet Sauvignon, the general resurfaced, this time with two henchmen by his side.
“Gentlemen, I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you leave. We think you are going to be a disruption to tonight’s event and we don’t want any part of that.”
We obliged and wished him the best, as Crockett and Tubbs rode with us to the first floor and showed us out onto the street.
No Regerts
While Mark was truly shaken by the whole event, I wasn’t. If we’re going to continue this whole “Slowjamastan” thing – which, yes, we are! – we need to have all kinds of experiences: the good ones and the bad ones. We need nights like this to remind us that not everyone will “get us.” We are not Borat and we’re not out to embarrass anyone, steal the spotlight or, the worst, ruin anyone’s special event. We are here to be a compliment, never a detractor. There will always be at least one person who will not understand this. It’s how we react that matters.
A final note about Mr. Silveria. As a logical, pragmatic and even semi-intelligent human being, I actually do not blame him one bit for sending us away. He arranged an important event with prominent speakers. It was his responsibility to provide an enjoyable environment to his guests and, most importantly, his speakers. If I were in his situation, I might have done the same. I truly understand and have no hard feelings. Alice, on the other hand, could benefit from an etiquette class or two. Upon our return back to San Diego, I sent them both letters and trinkets as an olive branch and to clear the air.
All Dressed Up and Nowhere to Go
We weren’t quite ready to close out all the fun yet, so Mark and I jumped onto the two nearest scooters and zoomed off to enjoy our last moments together in America’s capital. We enjoyed watching the many motorcades pass by as the summit came to a close. I hadn’t realized what a grand production went into some of these processions. I witnessed the President of Turkey leaving: The streets were suddenly sealed off while almost two dozen vehicles with flashing lights sped down the city streets at over 70+ miles an hour. WOW! A couple of the black cars had their windows down with young men sticking their heads out – I wondered if these were kids of Turkish diplomats soaking it all in. “Weeeeeeeeee!!!” I imagine a pretty fun experience for a kid.
Like the entire week, it was so much fun meeting random strangers on the street. We whizzed past a party of ten drinking at a sidewalk café. They hollered for us to come back, so we did. They were giddy with excitement and curiosity as we answered their questions (in character, of course) and passed out the Dubles like stimulus checks. Another time, I was taken aback when I heard someone behind me yell, “Slowjamastan???!!!” I turned around to see two adolescent males on full freak-out mode. Unlike most, these two locals actually knew about Slowjamastan, which was quite humbling and extremely surprising. Cruising around DC on scooters was just too much fun and something we could do for hours…but the clock was ticking and our wallets shrinking.
We ended the night enjoying arepas and papelón con limón at the Venezuelan ArepaZone before heading back and packing for the journey home.
Thank You and Goodnight
This week goes down as one of my most memorable and I am so grateful that I’m still having child-like fun in my late 40s. I wish this for everyone. Life is too short not to enjoy. Live it while you can – we’re all here for such a short time.
Mark and I would like to give our most sincere and heartfelt thanks to everyone we were fortunate to encounter during this trip. From high-ranking diplomats to hotel staff and Uber drivers, it’s the people that made this special journey so memorable. Thank you, and goodnight.
Join the Movement
If any of this sounds fun, I encourage you to become a citizen of Slowjamastan. It’s free and takes just 15 seconds to sign up. You may APPLY HERE.
