In a disheartening display of bureaucratic buffoonery, a constellation of world diplomats converged at Albany International Airport this Tuesday, transforming the terminal into an unlikely stage for what can only be described as a Shakespearean tragedy of international relations. Huddled around overpriced coffee at Gate 6, these emissaries of peace caused a flurry of eye-rolls, as they stood poised on the brink of resetting diplomacy—if only they could avoid the existential pitfall of stale pretzels and flight delays. It was an event shrouded in irony, where delegates from countries with conflicting ideologies sipped their lattes while casting sidelong glances at one another, each desperately trying to initiate dialogue and fumbling awkwardly like teenagers at a middle school dance. The room buzzed with the kind of tension you might find in a sitcom, except without the laughter track or clever punchlines. A neo-bureaucratic ballet unfolded, with officials waving white flags fashioned from napkins in a futile attempt to signal for compassion over a shared food court menu. “The whole affair is a tragedy wrapped in a ridiculous bureaucratic farce,” lamented an unnamed source haunting the dairy counter. “We’ve got South Sudan and North Korea debating cultural differences over mango smoothies, while the rest of the world crumbles like a stale croissant!” The airport became an accidental UN, replete with discussions over which gate reflects the proper diplomatic aesthetic. Unsurprisingly, the VIP lounge offered a buffet of delightful options, but alas, many diplomats were caught arguing over the politics of hummus versus guacamole. “It’s not just about dip; it’s about the spirit of cooperation,” stated one delegate between crunches of nachos, a distracted look of concern plastered across his face. Meanwhile, security lines doubled as metaphors for the bureaucratic barriers stalling meaningful discourse. An unfortunate diplomat from Norway was overheard yelling, “This is a human rights violation!” as he was stranded in an endless queue, while British officials turned on their charm in a desperate bid to bribe airport staff for a faster screening. To no one’s surprise, several prominent figures took the opportunity to complain about the airport Wi-Fi—dubbed by one disgruntled ambassador as “on par with our international negotiations.” Such frustrations led to scattered moments of sincerity as the diplomats gathered around charging stations, where they shared tales of failed talks and unfruitful treaties. Ultimately, the day culminated in a promising yet absurd commitment to reconvene “after security’s lunch break,” leaving all attendees grappling with the notion that perhaps the only treaty worth signing was an agreement to “just get along.” However, by the end of the gathering, as the baggage claim carousel churned out pieces of lost luggage, it became clear that no one was quite sure whether their diplomatic dreams had been misplaced or merely left to linger on a snack cart gone rogue. As the masses dispersed, the somber realization crept in: the only thing at Albany International that was truly lost in transit was the lofty ideal of peace itself, leaving behind nothing but the bittersweet aftertaste of stale bagels and the faded hope of camaraderie amid a heartbreaking farce. Truly, in this gloomy gathering of diplomats, dreams of peace seem destined to perish—somewhere between miscommunication and malfunctioning airport lighting.