Your laid-on taxi is late.
You get what you pay for. They must be insane. Surely you're in a commercial. The bill arrives; it's large but it's worth it. Show 25 25 50 100 All. She's a supermodel; he's a burly Greek fisherman crossed with Tony Soprano.
As you stand outside, a bodyguard built like a gigantic iron bell ushers a group of Russian businessmen into a people carrier.
The Belvedere is gently taken from you, placed on a silver platter, and spirited away to your table, to greet you on arrival, thus sparing you the bicep-snapping ordeal of lugging it all the way there yourself.
Before eating, you slurp drinks at the bar; a three-dimensional diagram populated by the cast of Star Trek. Eventually you're dropped home. The car is the size and shape of a riverside apartment. She practically curtsies as she does so. Topics Opinion.
Outside on the street, pavement scum queue for nightbuses. You've spent a fortune. Orders are taken and a meal is served; each dish is whispered into position under your nose and unveiled like a precious gem being offered to a sultan.
Order by newest oldest recommendations. So from now on, a Belvedere it is. Eventually your car arrives. Reuse this content. Most popular. You pay to feel superior.
Suddenly, part of you feels like winding down the window and giving them the finger. All the laughter and hubbub sounds posh or strangely accented. You've spent the night in an expensive Bond movie, pampered at every step, ferried home like a prince. He's of indeterminate age - anywhere between 25 and 45 - yet no matter how old he is, his companion is clearly 20 years younger.
Threads collapsed expanded unthreaded. This special cab cost three times the usual.