April 7, 2000 – The saga of Cuban 6-year-old Elian Gonzalez may soon be resolved, now that the boy's father has arrived.

Then again, I might have a torrid affair with Sandra Bullock and become a female figure skating champion. By the time this political mud-wrestling match slogs to a conclusion, and every elected official within the Beltway has gleaned his photo-op and faxed his strongly worded statement to newspapers, Elian will be 16 years old, addicted to Big Macs and a draft pick of the Florida Marlins.

This is all about stubborn American arrogance, the belief that our country is the best place for everyone. While it's an incredibly self-centered view, perhaps we have a point. For instance, you could never expect to read a story like this:

HAVANA (AP) – Seven-year-old Jacob Arians, from Teaneck, N.J., who was discovered last week wandering alone on a Havana beach, is the rope in a heated political tug-of-war between the United States and Cuba.

The boy was separated from his parents during a stop in Havana on a Carnival cruise, walking aimlessly off while his parents haggled with a street vendor over the price of a box of cigars.

Cuban leader Fidel Castro, in a four-hour speech broadcast on the Cuban government television station Castro at Morning, Afternoon and Nite, said that Arians was "joyous beyond words to have arrived in his new motherland," and that the boy "poured fourth a desire from deep within his giant heart to participate in the glorious revolution of worker spirit in Cuba."

President Bill Clinton, however, expressed surprise at Castro's statement.

"I thought Castro spoke mostly Spanish," Clinton said. "Maybe he got some Berlitz tapes on the black market."

Clinton also claimed that Castro's statements were misrepresentative of the boy's feelings, and were made in a feeble attempt to turn the boy's status into a political bargaining chip.

"Fidel Castro, obviously, has been putting something funny in those cigars," said the President. "There is not a 7-year-old boy anywhere in America who would willingly forsake a nation undergoing the greatest period of economic prosperity in its history for the economic equivalent of a truck-stop bathroom."

And in Teaneck, the boy's parents, Hiram and Mauve Arians, pleaded with the Cuban dictator to deliver their son safely back to the United States.

"Please, Mr. Castro, he's got his first Little League game next Saturday," said Mauve Arians. "My husband said you really like baseball and that you'd understand that he just can't miss that game. Tell them, Hiram."

"Um, that's right, Fidel," Hiram said. "I think he could go pro, and he'll never be able to do that if he plays in your pinko Commie country."

"Hiram!" Mauve scolded.

Reaction in Washington, beyond the words of the President, was sparse. A phone call to Immigration and Naturalization Services revealed a tape-recorded statement saying, "Press 1 to leave a message. Press 2 for more options. Or stay on the line, and an operator will be with you as soon as monkeys fly out of our butts." The Cuban Embassy was closed for installation of a satellite dish that would allow it to receive Castro at Morning, Afternoon and Nite. And U.S. Attorney General Janet Reno remained ugly.

The situation sparked a minor protest on the campus of Georgetown University. Eight students – the only ones remaining on campus at the onset of spring break – gathered in front of the union to link arms and mumble Yoko Ono songs.

"The poetry slam broke up early – there wasn't any rhyming – so we figured we'd protest something until the kegger starts," said one of the protesters, who would only give his name as "Frog" and claimed to be a philosophy major from Springfield, Ill. "What's the kid's name again?"

The final word comes from the boy himself, who was allowed to speak briefly to an Associated Press reporter before being ushered back into Fidel Castro's armed compound.

"The stupid TV doesn't even have Digimon or Pokemon, and I want to play my Gameboy," the boy said. Asked if he missed his home in New Jersey or his family, Jacob said, "Um, well, I guess. At least my daddy's beard doesn't smell like number two."