Not W.

Papa Bush. Big Bush. Fabulously-imitated-by-Dana-Carvey Bush.

He's fishing at a tournament down here, and there's a cocktail reception tonight.

My friend Shannon says, "It's a good thing you'll be meeting the dad instead of the son. A lot less chance of you kneeing him in the balls."

THAT'S WHAT SHE THINKS!

Just kidding. I have a career to think about here.

Anyway, I know he's not such a hot political figure right now, and he's already announced that all he's talkin' about is fishing, but... What would you ask George Bush if you had the opportunity to chat with him?

The scene: crowded cocktail party. I spot George Bush across the room and begin to make my way over. We make eye contact. I'm cooly sipping a gin and tonic. He's slurping a large melon daquiri with an umbrella, various large fruit garnishes, and a plastic mermaid clinging to the side of the glass. We introduce outselves.

Me: "So, did you catch anything?"

G.B.: "Of course! I used to be president! You think those sissy bonefish got the better of me? Not a chance."

Me: "OK. Simmer down there, George."

G.B.: "Sorry. I've had 2 daquiris."

Me: "That's OK."

G.B. (leaning in and whispering): "I gave my eldest son one of these when he was just 8. He drank me under the table that night and hasn't stopped since, bless his heart. He has a thirst as big as Texas."

Me (whispering, too): "We all know."

George and I both start giggling a little, and then we take a sip of our drinks.

Me: "So, do you think your son deserves to be elected president in this fine state of Florida?"

G.B: "Now, Jamie. I already told representatives I wouldn't be talking politics during my stay here. I can't just start babbling about it with you, can I? Would that be prudent? Would it?"

Me: "No, it wouldn't be prudent."

Pause, as George almost bursts from holding in his laughter.

Me: "Oh, George! You got me! Wouldn't be prudent! You are a wily guy."

G.B. (in between maniacal giggles): "I know. I love that one."

Another pause as George wipes tears of laughter from his eyes and we both take another sip of our cockatils.

Me: "Can I buy you another?"

G.B: "Certainly."

Me: "So, did you and Dan Quayle ever fish together?"

George shoots me a whithering glare.

G.B.: "Where's. My. Cocktail."

Me: "Right here, right here. OK, so you and Dan weren't fishing buddies. Did you bring anything special down here for the tournament, like a good luck charm or special bait?"

G.B. (slowly): "Read my lips. No new tackle."

Me: "OK. That was almost a good one."

G.B.: "I know!"

George almost falls off the bar stool, he's laughing so hard. I'm giggling, too.

Me (calming down): "George, it's your round."

G.B: "I know. Bartender!"

Me: "I've gotta go after this one."

G.B.: "NO! Don't go yet!"

Me: "I know, George. But not everyone gets the presidential pension."

G.B.: "Good point."

Me: "Before I mosey, I just have to tell you one thing... I LOOOOOOVED you in the Simpsons."

Well, we'll see. I have to go home and change into something "presidential."

I'll spill all the dirt on G.B. tomorrow.