UNITED NATIONS — So many world leaders have converged on the United Nations over the last week that at one point billionaire Bill Gates was left cooling his heels on East 46th Street in a "pedestrian freeze" while a presidential motorcade whizzed the wrong way down 1st Avenue.
The founder of Microsoft was on his way to a U.N. summit to donate $167.8 million to eradicate malaria. Which makes you wonder: Which president was that anyway?
It's hard enough to get your arms around what goes on across the globe in a single day. But that might be easier than coping with the Manhattan traffic jams and restaurant reservations when nearly all of the world's leaders turn up in a single building over a single week.
Petty despots and benevolent dictators, venerable prime ministers and newly minted presidents all have been floating through the curved corridors of the U.N. complex and riding the elevators at least once to the top of the 38-story tower on the East River for a brief meeting with Secretary-General Ban Ki-moon.
Coiffed and crisp, the 75 heads of state and 36 leaders of government who came are trailed by security guards. Reporters managed to corner Zimbabwe's Robert Mugabe in a hallway, where the BBC's U.N. correspondent asked whether he would be back next year.
"What, are you a witch?" the 84-year-old president asked.
"Of course I'll be back, why not?" he added with a chuckle, before turning to questions about a power-sharing deal with his longtime rival, Morgan Tsvangirai.
No matter the size of the entourage, no matter the ability to bring peace or wreak havoc, the leaders are equalized by decorum as they take to the podium for the General Assembly's annual debate.
Taro Aso had been prime minister of Japan for less than 24 hours Saturday when it was his turn. When the equipment used to provide simultaneous translations malfunctioned, Aso showed no signs of stage fright. "It's not a Japanese machine?" he quipped in English.
U.N. technicians laid about 1,300 miles of television cables around the complex to ensure that the talk-fest could be broadcast to every country. And so a sheik declares his government's agenda to improve the lot of women and the president of a small island complains that his country isn't profiting enough from the sale of tuna taken from its waters.
Although the speeches are the most visible part of the annual gathering, they obscure the real business -- a mountain of diplomacy at meetings, cocktail parties, seminars and dinners.
