It never occurred to me how a brand new driver’s license might have different implications for different teenagers across the country. I thought we would all just cruise the boulevards with no destination, reveling in our newfound independence. But in rural Georgia, a driver’s license means you’ll be hauling equipment out to the farm. In New York, it means you’ll still be taking the subway -- you’ll just have a driver’s license with you. In Chatswin, it means you’ll be chauffeuring Dalia Royce around town.
When Dalia first asked me to drive her around I thought she was joking. But then she opened up her license-free wallet and started throwing money around, and I knew she was serious. I thought I’d just be getting a flat fee and gas money, but pretty soon she was shelling out fifty bucks to go fast, seventy-five to go faster, a hundred to do both. She throws money around like it’s going out of style, which she may well think it is. It’s also possible that green just displeases her.
In addition to the obvious financial benefits of being Dalia’s chauffeur, the gig also boasts a pretty fascinating anthropological element. Prior to this, Dalia never seemed capable of a human emotion beyond disdain. She is, though, and all it took to drag it out of her was a crush on a boy. I won’t tell you his name, but I will give you a hint: everyone in town has had a crush on him. Hotties, uggos, dweebs, burnouts, jocks, Franken-moms, traffic cops -- they all think he’s a righteous dude(1). The way everyone swoons over him, you’d think he was the Messiah -- and he may well be if the very idea of him can make Dalia a half approachable individual. I can’t wait to see what a date with him will do for her. A smile might be too much to ask, but intonation could be in the cards. Please let this date go well -- I shudder to think what great hellfire Dalia will rain down on those responsible if it doesn’t.
(1) Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. Dir. John Hughes. Writ. John Hughes.