Case Notes for Patient 540463, Obama, Barack [on Air Force 1].

9/4/13: I awoke in the dimly lit general cabin of Air Force One, with someone shaking  my shoulder.  It was Valerie Jarrett. The lights had been dimmed and all who could sleep were asleep. "Ssssshhhh!" she said "We need you up front."  I stepped over the lanky figure of Marvin Nicholson, Patient's trip director who was in the aisle seat and I made my way forward. Valerie Jarrett opened a bulkhead door. I had seen this compartment before in photographs, but the usual  leather chair behind the desk was not there. In  its place was a a dazzling construction of gold leaf, semi-precious stones and peacock feathers, of a design so unutterably hideous as to make me want to rip out my eyes. "It's his throne," Jarrett, explained in an an awed  whisper. "It's good for his self-esteem when he is traveling to meet other leaders. The only time he gets to use it use it is is when this plane  is en route and he is out of sight."  Patient was slumped in the aforementioned  throne, a cold sweat on his forehead, pulse racing, eyes rolling wildly, "You were right to call me, " I told Jarrett. "Vladiphobia."  I took a syringe of Ativan from my medical kit, he flinched as I sank the needle into his upper arm and waited for his panic to subside.