Hey, the traffic around here sucks, I'm told. The World Bank reports it can take 3 to 4 hours to cross the capital city in rush hour. I don't much about that - seems like it never takes me more than about 15 minutes. But of course, I'm the president, and those guys with the jackboots and the mirrored shades do a pretty good job of parting the flood for me.
I hear the weather has been hotter than usual too. Lord knows the dark windows of my presidential limo seem to steam up more than usual when I've got the A/C blasting.
But don't laugh, my sweet Presidential Motorcade has got some downsides, too.
Let's start with the basics: I always travel with no fewer than 4 identical Mercedes limos, so the snipers don't know which one to attack. What if I forget my ipod? How do I go back and figure out which one to look in? Secondly, what if someone farted in it while they were painstakingly detailing it with their personal toothbrush?
Then, let's face it: despite my best efforts to pave my own streets, there are some ghastly potholes out there, and damn it if my knucklehead drivers - all detailee military personnel, of course - hit every single one of them.
And speaking of hitting things, there seem to be a hell of a lot of poor-ass pedestrians in my way too. Why those people can't stay the hell out of the way when they see my 15-car delegation rocketing through, but no, they've got to go step out into traffic and get nailed. At least it was the guy selling scratch cards and not the guy selling radios. All those electronics would have seriously dinged up my paint, and I'm tired of hiring peons to buff out the blood stains and bone chips.
But it is a never-ending story with the expenses. The rocket scientists I've got driving my cars got back in the line for brawn twice, and never got in the line for brains even once. They don't understand how expensive it is to keep this set of limos looking good. And they crash my stuff on a weekly basis, it seems. Sometimes my drivers just go out and wreck a car by getting into a huge crash. Other times, they park on the bad side of town and get chunks of concrete thrown on them.
Good thing I've got a garage full of spares, and another 20 peons to keep the paint shiny by buffing it the way I like: with their own hair.