Limodriving (yes, one word kthnx) is about making silk from polyester. This from a previous, not that distant life.

Cadillac Bar

At The Boss’s Limousines, we offer a “Champagne Service” – deceptive advertising if ever I’ve seen it.

Scheduled to provide this premium offering for a couple on an evening dinner run, I asked Bossman what he expected.

Boss: Well, you know, grab a bottle from the fridge, keep it on ice in the car, open it and pour them each a glass.

Me: Should I do this in the forecourt of their hotel, or pull into a gas station?

(I think at this stage The Boss was wondering if I was the man for the job.)

Boss: I don’t know, you’ll figure it out. Just don’t spill anything on the carpet.

(We see where his priorities lie.)

His idea of champagne needs some tweaking. What he wanted me to do was to take a bottle of two-buck spumante rolling around the bottom of the office fridge, and pour that for folks paying $66 bucks an hour for a mini-stretch Cadillac. How embarrassing.

What I actually did was to stop off at the supermarket on the way, spent ten bucks of my own money, and bought a half-decent bottle of Californian methode champenoise. Serving spumante as champagne is fraud, in my book.

The setup for the evening was too cute. Two college-aged daughters had organized an anniversary night out for their parents while they were on vacation down here. All they knew was to be downstairs in their hotel at 6:30, and to go with the flow.

Of course, I was the surprise (lucky, lucky) and with two glasses and bottle in hand, managed to serve them drinks in the lobby without embarrassing either them or me. I left to wait in the car, thankful for no stuff-ups.

The rest of the evening was (as I am learning) pretty standard stuff. I took them to their mystery restaurant (which their daughters had chosen and paid for) hung around, and took them back to their hotel.

Two things made this night a little different. The first is that this couple talked with each other all night. They talked all the way there (thirty minutes) they talked all through dinner (don’t ask, I just know) and they talked all the way back. The last I’m guessing, because they did raise the privacy screen for a while, although professional ethics prevent me from speculating about what happened. Okay, if I knew, I would tell you.

But it struck me as refreshing to see a long-married couple still animated by each other after twenty years.

The second good thing was the fifty tip.

Which goes to show that knowing spumante from champagne does have some benefits.