Saturday, February 18, 2012

Well, that was awkward...

So I dreamed I was trying to buy a used Jag XK8 from a guy I knew who owned a car dealership.

I pulled down into the used car corner of his lot, and was having a difficult time navigating the aisles in the Corvette I was driving, with that long snoot that drops out of view. I parked the 'Vette and ran up to the main dealership building, intending to enter through a side door, when I noticed a bit of a commotion around the front door; President and Mrs. Obama and the girls were there, posing with my car dealer friend for some sort of quick grip-'n'-grin photo op. You know, "Rah, rah, Detroit and the small businessman!"

So I notice the Jag I was there to buy is parked right at the side door to the showroom, and I loiter around waiting for my friend to finish whatever it is he's doing. Somehow as the thing up front breaks up and press types are dispersing and the limo's being pulled around and whatnot, I realize I'm standing right there next to President Obama. You know how it is when you find yourself in close social contact with someone with whom you have practically no conversational overlap? "So... What about this weather, huh? Sure are getting a lot of it..."

Anyhow, they all left, and I traded the 'Vette for the Jag, and my friend's daughter told me about this shindig at this club at a hotel, some out-of-town DJ or whatever, and I agreed to go since some old friends of mine would be there.

So I drove downtown that night, parked the car, and rode the elevator up to the top floor of the hotel, only to find out that I was awkwardly underdressed for the scene. I found my friend's daughter and asked what was up and apparently, what with the presidential entourage being in the neighborhood, the crowd trended a little dressier. In fact, somebody was saying that Barry and Michelle had dropped by themselves! Wonderful.

I excused myself, circulated around the fringe of the room and said "Hello-Goodbyes" to the folks I knew and made for the exit. I saw the elevator doors closing down the hall and ran for them. Somebody held the elevator and I rushed in... (You can see this coming, right?)

...and rode down with the Obamas on one of those awkward elevator rides from hell. The only thing worse than being stuck in an elevator car with a politician would be being stuck in an elevator car with a pack of Amway-selling Hare Krishnas.

"Leaving early, too, I see?"

"Mm? Yes, sir."

"I remember you from the car dealership. You were looking at that Jaguar."

"Yes, yes I was."

"Fine cars. Of course, I have to pull for the home team myself; sort of comes with the job."

"No doubt. Chrysler 300's a fine car, though, sir."


If I had to bite my tongue any harder, I was going to sever it. I'm staring at the numbers over the door, willing them to change faster. Surely the hotel wasn't this tall on the ride up? The First Lady is wavering between terminal boredom and looking daggers at the pleb who was allowed in the car.

Finally the doors open, and I exit the elevator like a cork exiting a champagne bottle, scuttling for safety across the lobby with a "Well, see ya'!" wave and a deep inner gratitude that I got away before he asked how I vote, because I'd have laughed myself to tears trying to answer.

I got to the Jag, put the top down, pulled on my baseball cap, and then I woke up.

26 comments:

Anonymous said...

Unsolicited dream interpretation?
You're a much nicer person than I am.

Tam said...

Oh, everybody says that. "If I met so-and-so, I'd give them a piece of my mind!"

But people generally don't do that. People are generally polite to other people who are being polite to them.

Anonymous said...

A 300? No, Obama traded the Ford Explorer for the Sebring after being ribbed about driving his SUV to Springfield every day.

Shootin' Buddy

Weer'd Beard said...

If there was EVER an appropriate time to let a monster bean burrito fart squeak out, that would have been it!

That would top my "I took a piss beside Gunnie Ermey!" Story in SPADES!

taylor said...

Wait, wait, wait....

You traded a 'Vette for a Jag?

...

What a nightmare!

Roberta X said...

"We Do Not Rent Pigs."

Critter said...

too many B vitamins before bed time?

Buzz said...

I think Tam has a subconscious crush on Simba....

Anonymous said...

So... Let me sort this out... You don't carry a firearm in your dreams... That's what I got out of the story, am I right?

Ed Rasimus said...

You would buy a Tata?

Tam said...

Well, technically an XK8 would be a Ford.

Brad K. said...

Tam,

The trading cars is a change you want to make in your image of yourself. The feeling underdressed at the gathering is common, a feeling of being less than confidently prepared for a challenge or opportunity you are considering.

The Obama's are a symbol. You see yourself (and quite properly so) as being the equal of any American in importance, stature, and respect. Your shyness around them is a burgeoning confidence that hasn't settled in completely yet.

And I have to agree, that the elevator presented one imposing opportunity to lift one cheek and sneak.

One part of the sequence surprises me. President Obama is associated in my mind with thuggery, intimidation by "his people", eliminating competition in private rather than meeting it honestly -- and gun control by foul means. Yet you encountered no armed bubble protecting him and his family. This seems to reinforce that the President and his family in your dream are an incidental face for the realization of your image in your own mind. If the rest of the baggage of encountering the President -- the prepping, prompting, warnings, friskings, and armed Secret Service presence had been there, then the dream might have been about encountering the President of the United States. This was just you, wearing a different, but very authoritative, face.

Well, I suppose the dream could have meant that you see Obama trading Michelle for you, the way you traded the 'Vette for the Jag. But that doesn't feel right. And your escaping unscathed and unencumbered was just your waking mind reflecting real values, in the umbra as you began disengaging from the dream.

Stretch said...

You need either few or better drugs.

Kip Condor said...

"sir"?

Lewis said...

Kip Condor said: "sir"?

Lewis replied: Respect for the office, and natural courtesy.

Kristopher said...

Here ya go ... this will sort ya out.

Really far out...

treefroggy said...

"You know how it is when you find yourself in close social contact with someone with whom you have practically no conversational overlap? "

You could have asked him if he was strapped too, and shown him your hog-leg.

Anonymous said...

> The only thing worse than being stuck in an elevator car with a politician would be being stuck in an elevator car with a pack of Amway-selling Hare Krishnas.

When I was a kid I got crushed up against the side of LBJ's limo by a fat lady that was frantic to shake his hand. I'm still emotionally scarred.

DirtCrashr said...

And you know Barry gave you the up and down once over while Michelle was looking elsewhere...

Tam said...

Kip Condor,

""sir"?"

I was raised in the South.

1) If there is the slightest chance that someone may be as little as thirty seconds older than me, they get a 'sir' or 'ma'am'.

2) I will be polite to someone right up until the point that I'm actually mad enough to kill them where they stand. And even then it will probably be something like "Will you please get on your knees and tie on this blindfold, sir?"

John said...

real life story.

"the one" shared the same hotel as me on his campaign tour. I had a nice orderly chat with an LEO who would not let me back my truck into the most tactically secure parking space.

I asked what was up and why he needed two spaces on each side of his cruiser and why there was a buddy cop car at the other visible corner. He just smiled and said your find out tomorrow.

Long story short, I was carrying full sized, had another smaller carry piece in the truck 2-300 rounds of ammo as well as 2 long guns. Glad no one decided to search my truck.

Although a pair of Mosin 91/30's shouldn't really be called ... oh never mind.

Jay G said...

Taylor beat me to it: A Jag? SRS?

Keads said...

"XK8 is technically a Ford". That is priceless right there. The X-Type is a Ford Mondeo or Ford CD132.

At least Ford stopped the leaks and smoke generating wiring harnesses!

Yeah, raised in the South too, but wait until I call you "ma'am!

Justthisguy said...

To Tam @9:52: Me too, and I concur, Ma'am. Also, formal manners are a great thing for those of us who are, let's say, excessively earnest and socially awkward, as Temple Grandin has pointed out.

P.s. The new captchas remind me of the field sobriety test in "The Man with Two Brains."

Tennessee Budd said...

I'd have a hell of a hard time calling Obumble "sir."
Yeah, I know, respect for the office; yeah, I know, if not for a left-turning truck in '08 I'd be back in service & he'd be my commander-in-chief (& then I'd call him sir, no matter how much I hated it): I'm a civilian now, will be from here on out, & I'm a citizen, not a subject. Not one "sir" nor "massa" will he get from me. Not even in a dream.

montieth said...

You should try riding in an elevator with that troll Jesse Jackson.

no, it wasn't a dream.