I have a shameful confession, internet.
Driving A Big Van Around Makes Me Feel Like A Badass.
This story-that-isn’t-a-story all started today when I was catering a big event for the University That Shall Not Be Named. It’s graduation weekend here in Westeros, and I’m working approximately 43,890 hours (okay, like 19) setting up all the super boozy receptions for the wittle 2013’s.
Because there are so many events this weekend, my catering company had to rent a few MASSIVE Penske’s to fit all the food for events that range from 50 to 2000 people. I was only doing an event today that hosted about 150, but all the normal sized vans were gone, so I got to take out a medium massive van.
I don’t know if it’s pure Napoleon complex, or the challenge of steering the thing, or machismo (reasons why I’m single #36 – I use the term machismo to describe myself) or what, but I LOVE driving the Penske. When I pull up to some little lowrider Prius or a tricked-out ’94 Volvo, I just look over at the other driver and think to myself, vroom vroom, biznatch.
Also fabulous? Driving pretty much wherever I want. I have started many a shift by chasing hapless college students down the narrow sideways in the university. I even invented a game called How Close Can I Get To This Guy With The Earphones Before He Notices Me (pro tip – very close).
Today I got to back out of a sideway into the middle of a busy intersection with a van full of food AND NO ONE SAID SQUAT TO ME. They just sat there in their inferior modes of transportation silently praying that I wasn’t going to hit them with the ass of my 16 foot truck.
Obviously I didn’t.
Because I’m a badass.