HATS WERE MY FIRST THOUGHT. I knew I was going to dinner with a
group of people who controlled $140 billion in businesses and had strong influence over another $200 billion in businesses. Over twenty lesser developed countries’ senior leaders had signed very lucrative monopoly contracts with this group’s leaders. My dinner companions had ex-KGB, CIA, and Mossad on staff. The invitation didn’t say “Illuminati.” It was my suspicion that their invitations never did. It’s a discreet group, and something like that might be considered flashy. Of course, my dinner was before Jayzee and Beyonce became members. From what I can tell, the celebrity Illuminati are really just a sub-chapter. In my opinion, celebrity Illuminati are like having an annoying, drunk uncle who comes to all the family functions. He makes you cringe. He’s too loud, but he’s family, so you put up with him. I secretly believe that the children of the Illuminati elders pushed for the celebrity Illuminati sub-chapter just so they could get better seats at events, but I can’t prove any of it. Back to the hats. All I really knew about the Illuminati was read in books or told by people passing along stories. Illuminati were, to me, kind of the Keyser Söze myth of power. I had seen a few grainy pictures in the books which featured a fall nighttime ritual with members wearing conical hats. I didn’t want to be presumptuous. To be candid, it really wasn’t a formal invitation, it was a “why don’t you join us for dinner at this restaurant?” kind of invitation. I crossed “Buy and wear hat” off my to-do list for dinner.
Suit. I went with my suit. Conservative, to be sure, almost funereal. No cufflinks. Considering that one of their cufflinks probably cost more than my car, I did not want to look like the waiter. I buffed my shoes. Buffed is not an accurate term. When I travel I use one of those little sponge wipes for your shoes which is really just silicone on a stick, but it gives a shine and it fits in your suitcase. Ready to go. Conversation. What do you talk about at dinner with some of the most powerful people on the globe? Dinner would include twenty to thirty guests. Even though it was at a restaurant and I was a last-minute invitee, there would be a level of expectation. I scanned the few papers that were in English that I could find in the hotel lobby, watched the BBC for a half hour, and vowed to ask questions if invited to speak and shut up if I was not invited to speak. Oh, no matter what, do not say “Illuminati.” No one had ever really declared that this group was Illuminati, but some of the lower staff had hinted and with that much global influence and money, I could put it all together. It was clear to me with whom I was meeting. Maybe to be vetted for a future position? I did not know. Besides, it was just dinner. I took a taxi to the restaurant. It does not matter what country you are in; the taxi drivers are not from that country. The arithmetic is all wrong for the passenger—that is, me. Neither of us is from the country we are in, or each other’s country, or speaks any language in common—including the people we might ask for directions. I hand the driver a note card from the hotel with the address and name of the restaurant. He drives two blocks, stops the taxi, gets out, and talks to three other taxi drivers who are standing in front of their taxis waiting near a hotel, and asks them directions. He lights a cigarette while they are pointing and motioning and drawing on the hood of one of the cabs. Then he hustles back to the car, takes the last puff on his cigarette, throws it to the street, and we are off. I’ve watched all the James Bond movies where he shows up in foreign countries, knows where and how to get everywhere, and it happens slickly and easily for him. I want to be that guy someday. Pulling up to the restaurant, I knew that the orienteering team of taxi drivers who had mapped this route must have gotten it wrong. I was going
M y D inne r wi t h t h e Illu m i n at i
to dinner with some very powerful people with an enormous amount of money and influence. I was being dropped off in front of what looked like a very large converted hunting lodge, or chalet, or something. I don’t know, really. I have, since then, gone to a great Polish restaurant looking over Lake Michigan. The food is fantastic. It is log-cabin in design, but has white Christmas lights hanging through the place. There are three stuffed bears in the restaurant and many other taxidermy works of art. Antlers hung, stuck, or incorporated everywhere. Somehow that place on Lake Michigan reminded me of this restaurant. It was not five-star, it was not white-napkin; no valet parking or coat check. If you had told me that it had a Wednesday night prime rib special, based only the décor, I very well might have believed you. I followed a hostess down a narrow hallway to what I thought was the private room for the dinner. There were four or five round tables seating six to eight each, separated by a floor-to ceiling accordion separator from the rest of the large dining room where all of the other patrons were having dinner. Guests straggled in, made drink orders, and shook hands, making jokes with old friends. Cordially, I was introduced as someone invited, but not really of importance. I was seated between two fascinating men. To my left was a gentleman of at least sixty years of age who had to be a Brit. His teeth looked drawn by a five-year-old using yellow crayons drawing upside down Lego. Jagged edges, twisted at different angles. During dinner, when I asked about his travels, I found out that he had stayed at least two weeks in every UN-identified country in the world, including being detained in several of them. He was also in charge of about $5 billion of the business. I came to find out later that, even though he was a bit of a bore as a conversationalist, he was also a world-class ballroom dancer as well as a danger to the level of future personal avoidance. To my right was another Brit. He had just been hired to bring illegal TV programming into Britain from the satellite system, so that the BBC could be avoided. This would bypass the taxes and restrictions, and would be available to people using their own equipment to bypass the BBC system to get the channels. It was rather interesting. No one asked what I did, and I didn’t share. M y D i nne r wi t h t he Illu mi nat i
Dinner was off the menu and rather common. Beef, seafood, stew, and rabbit. There were no vegetables whatsoever. Three things stuck with me to this day: 1 The most powerful man to my left was wearing a shirt with frayed cuffs. 2 When the wine was ordered for the room, our host looked at the list, argued price with the sommelier, and ordered a cheaper bottle. 3 The business discussion was like a cocktail party. I was underwhelmed overall. There was no way that this group could have planned the grassy knoll. Price fixing for oil on an international basis was probably a little outside of their grasp. Finally, they were cheap. Sure, it was only one meal in one location, but overall I felt relief that we might have overestimated the Illuminati, even without the hats.
M y D inne r wi t h t h e Illu m i n at i