I'm sitting in my living room. I look outside. Wow, there's a broken down limousine outside in the street, and a man in a suit approaching my lovely home. I answer the door.
"Yes, can I help you?"
"I'm with Senator Obama, we are having some vehicle issues, may we come in while we wait for the backup vehicle to get here?"
"Sure, make yourself comfortable."
Would this really happen? No. Of course not. Why would anyone want to relax on my 1980's leather section (for which I have a deep love) when they could chill out in their limousine? There is no reason. But I'll continue the daydream anyway.
I'd probably offer him a beer, but I'm not sure if he'd take it. Maybe if it was late, and he was on the road for a while, and some secret service guy took a test sip to make sure it wasn't poisoned, or skunked maybe.
Either way it would be such a trip. Actually talking to someone and only asking the questions you care to know the answer about. Not watching Lou Dobbs be a dickhead on CNN. Just, being chums with Barrack Obama. Or McCain. Or whoever.
Next time I see a limousine at the end of the road I'm spreading tacks in front of my driveway. Like a fancy celebrity mouse trap. Only no glue pad or poison. Just tacks.