Every year about this time the Face of Everyman makes a pronouncement about the weather and temperatures expected for the next three months. The Foggy Bottoms Resort and Spa is regarded as being in the Banana belt; as such few locals migrate to the sunny climes of Mexico. Rodney hopes that the venerable sage will utter a dreadful forecast. One that will give him every reason to leave and make a fresh start somewhere that folks don’t know him.
the Face of Everyman watched in awe as Astrid and Montoya began a ritualized mating dance. Such cultural cross-over displays were uncommon outside of the magical kingdom of the Foggy Bottoms Resort and Spa. The venerable sage planned on presenting a paper at the next Audubon Society convention revealing instances of bird like behavior in small rodents.
Once again the pool boys had put way too much chlorine in the Olympic sized pool at the Foggy Bottoms Resort and Spa. Eustace complained that he was losing his mating colors at the worst time: Winter Speed Dating Season. the Face of Everyman could certainly commiserate as the strong fumes made his eyes water. The tears smearing his new face Bronzer.
Once again “Boxcar” Johnson had violated the terms of his parole. He was often lonely. As the only lodger of the halfway house at the Foggy Bottoms Resort and Spa he came and went pretty much as he pleased except when Security cameras caught him otherwise. Seen above, well after midnight, talking to the Face of Everyman. It didn’t matter that it was Chaos Theory or even String Theory; he was going down.
the Face of Everyman recognized the guest immediately as the noted author of children’s books. She had booked in as Madeleine. The moment that she saw his look of recognition she begged him not to let on who she was. The venerable sage kept her secret, but not others. Soon the whole staff at the Foggy Bottoms Resort and Spa bragged about getting her autograph. Madeline soon departed for a more private and discreet AirBnB.
Reginald lived some distance from the Foggy Bottoms Resort and Spa. His home was among marsh cattails at a posh water hazard on the municipal golf course. His days were filled with Golf and dining on succulent dragonflies. the Face of Everyman was more than curious how he had found this magical kingdom. When asked, Reginald muttered something about gusty winds and strong drink.
Rogue hackers from some distant Republic-Stan managed to force their way into the vast data base of the Foggy Bottoms Resort and Spa. Perhaps the image is only meant to embarrass the kindly ol’ pensioner, but he is oblivious to such attempts. Blame for the lack of digital security fell squarely on the Face of Everyman. His Golden Handshake seemed further away with each such incident.