Vail Valley Voices: A six-pack of lottery dreams
Ryan Summerlin December 8, 2012
I wrote a few things down before the recent Powerball drawing. Here are some random flashbacks:
The first thing I need to do after I win this thing is keep a cool head. I’m going to think it through and divvy up the dough as fairly and equitably as I know I’m capable of doing.
I will need a motorcade to get me to the office in Denver where I collect the money. I want Hells Angels in front, behind and on the side of the car while I’m driven. The car needs to be black, long, and I want Boz Scaggs on the CD player. I will be holding an adult beverage along the way.
I will arrive and pick up the cash. An annuity is too sketchy for me. I believe I will spend the money much more wisely if I have it in hand, rather than leave it in my government’s hands. I’m also pretty sure that if I let them watch it, they’re going to lose a $100 million or so over the 25-year period.
After a few pictures for the press, my motorcade will take me to a Ford dealer (no bailout money), where I will buy a new truck with leather seats. No haggling. I’ll pay sticker price and shoo my motorcade away after a healthy tip.
I will drive my new truck to a secret location to meet my kids. (Probably that Italian restaurant I like in the Highlands neighborhood.) I will tell them to order anything they want. I will never say a word about the prize. I guess I’ll just be hungry. I will pay for the meal and hand them each a hundred dollar bill. I will walk like John Wayne back to my truck.
I’ll drive back to Vail and call my realtor friend: “I want that little house on Brush Creek with the five acres. Get me two horses and hire someone to take care of them.”
I’ll remember I didn’t call work. I’ll dial and say, “Tell someone who cares that I don’t have the flu.”
I’ll take a seat in my soon-to-be-replaced leather chair, crack a beer and start to write checks. First, I’ll deal with the cash awards to all the loyalists I’ve known in my life. A few charities will benefit as well.
Then I’ll try to figure what needs to be fixed. A few things come to mind: Congress, the auto industry, large banks, the Middle East, the union boss mentality in the new millennium and Bill Maher. All these things are bigger than life and I’ll reconsider.
It’s too much for me to change, and I’ll decide to let those sleeping dogs lie. (Speaking of dogs, I’m going to get one from the pound and pay them a million dollars for it. Anonymously, of course.)
I could build that third lane on Interstate 70 and charge a toll. I’ll open it in one direction in the morning and the other direction in the afternoon. No, too risky. What if all the global warming types are right and it never snows again? (I’ll decide to give a little more cash to my loyalists instead.)
I should purchase the Keystone pipeline, develop it and open up gas stations all over the country. I could sell my gas for $1.50 a gallon less than the competition. I wouldn’t let anyone who eats Ben and Jerry’s Ice Cream get in on the deal, though. They would have to show some sort of ID. Nah, it would take too long to develop. Besides, I eat Ben and Jerry’s when it’s on sale. (Whew, saved money on that one. Please add another zero to my buddies’ checks.)
How about I go to California and run against Nancy Pelosi in the 8th District? I could spend every dime I have to win the election and her congressional seat. During my acceptance speech, I would shock the country and give the seat back to her as long as she promised to never open her mouth again, ever. No, forget it. That woman could never shut up. (More coinage for my cronies, thank you very much.)
There were beer cans all over the floor and I never came up with a good idea that money could fix. I will, however, look at how much I would have given to family and friends and realized I was way over budget on that one. I decided it was best to sleep it off and deal with this in the morning.
I remember waking up with a bit of a headache and checking the winning lottery numbers against my numbers. Not a single one matched. I was almost relieved (not). The Hells Angels convinced me that my deposit was nonrefundable and I went to work.
Greg Ziccardi can be reached at GZVAIL@Yahoo.com.