So there’s an expression about how the other half lives. I ain’t got nothing on how that might be, but I seen books and stories and all that about living large.

Looks like, though, I might find out a bit about it.

Given that I don’t know how the rich live first hand, I had the regular people issue of how am I getting to the airport for our big retreat. While figuring if M. needed to tell his boss that he’d have to be a little late in order to cart me off to my flight, I had a brainstorm. I remembered that (a) duh, it’s like a work trip and like that meant they’d be paying expenses and (b) three other people on the team live south of the airport (and work) just like me. Ding, ding, ding, car pool.

I mention it to my boss. She thinks it’s a swell idea if I rally the people from my direction together, and I can hire a car service on the company dime. We talk about asking other folks what car service they use, and I should do likewise, which I do.

Last Friday, I called the place that was recommended to me, because they are prompt and comfortable and reliable. I didn’t think of either conveyance or cost, because the car company had been vetted by use. Got the number, placed the call and discussed what I needed.

“Oh, OK, four people and luggage, yeah, so you’ll need a stretch.” A fucking prom-ready, stretch limousine.

Retard, simple-living, Pat-channeling me panicked. I clumsily got off the phone, saying I had to check out costs at some other places and would get back to them, blah fucking blah.

In my head was Pat, loud and clear, “You can’t do that, you can’t do that, you can’t do that.” What was I thinking? Who did I think I was? A stretch limo?

Reality check is that, um, what was I thinking they would offer? It’s a car service to the airport from one of the country’s more expensive neighborhoods. I work in the bosom of venture capitalist country. I work at a rather wealthy place. The car service has done business there before and they know that.

Somehow, however, I envisioned a station wagon (with me sitting in the wayback, bumping along with the luggage) or a minivan. I hadn’t really thought through the limo concept.

I checked the price with my boss, and economically, it’s fine and dandy. What’s the difference between four people paying for a cab, parking, mileage or whatever to the airport separately versus sharing a car, right? It’s cheaper in the prom mobile.

My mother’s voice in my head aside, much is just an economy I ain’t used to living. Take the hotels, where we’ll be sojourning. My boss ragged on the dumpiness of one of them, saying it was a cut below the usual. I looked it up on the Interrnet. I guarantee it’s about 2-3 cuts above where I would be staying on my own.