What I mean is, everyone should ride in a chauffeured Bentley down 5th Avenue at least once in their life.
I finished up the job late today at the hotel, and I wasn't really looking forward to dragging all my luggage and computer hardware the twelve or fifteen blocks to Grand Central during rush hour.
So after I checked out, I stopped at the concierge's desk and asked if they had a courtesy car or shuttle service over to the terminal. He said if the Bentley was available, I was welcome to it.
Obviously he didn't have to mention that twice. I spun through the revolving doors and trundled my luggage down to the curb. The doorman asked if I needed anything, and I told him about the car. He waved the car smartly up to the curb and placed my bags in the trunk.
I didn't wait for the doorman, I opened my own door and slid into total luxury. The aroma of fine leather and immense wealth was intoxicating. If I could capture that smell and market it as a cologne, I'd be rich enough to actually deserve to be in that car.
They usually only drive guests to places within a 10-block radius of the hotel, usually for shopping, so they were being very generous with me. I let the driver drop me off at 44th and Madison so he'd have a quicker time getting back to the hotel. I'm sure there were some ridiculously wealthy people waiting impatiently by the curb back at the hotel for their ride to Cartier's, while a wayward blogger was being schlepped to the train station in the hotel's expensive roadster.
That thought made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.
So I'm home now. I can cross a few more things off the "stuff I never thought I'd get to do" list. It was an interesting and busy week, but no matter where I've been there's always something satisfying about coming home.
And don't worry, I'll be back to political stuff now.
There'll be a few interesting things to discuss over the next couple of days.