"What's in those gym bags sir?" The customs agent once again asks you.
"Oh, these, just a bunch of soiled underwear." You quickly respond.
"Ewww, that's sick. Get them the hell away from me."
Relieved, you scurry past the customs agent, and board the plane. During the entire flight there, all you can think about is your new life in Switzerland.
When you get there, it is better than you could have ever imagined. Your house is huge, and you have a personal maid, butler, and chef to take care of you. You have your days free to go skiing, and your nights... well let's just say that your partner built your house strategically next to an all female college loaded with young blonde hair, blue eyed Swiss girls who just love your darling American charm. The hell with being with president, you're in heaven.
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