3 x 3
I was excited after reading the Indy’s “Council Approves New Rules for Sidewalk Cart Vendors.” Carts can be no larger than 3 feet by 3 feet and must be movable. That’s generous regulations. Now I’ll have a place bigger than most Laguna homes. And there appears to be no height restriction. I can build on that. A rooftop bar might be nice. Or, I’ll open a store that I can live above. My grandfather lived above his jewelry store. He was never late to open up due to traffic on his steps. Closing was a different matter. He was often late getting home due to a detour to his favorite bar. But his go-to excuse to grandmother was getting home was uphill and his old pins made it difficult to approximate an ETA. Grandmother pretended to buy his nonsense in order to get more chardonnay housewife time to herself. It was an outpatient marriage that lasted 70 years, without intervention, therapy or recidivism. Their marriage was a fine example of how to reign in today’s spiraling out-of-control mental health costs. Belly up Obamacare. Prost.
I’m in my garage now building my live-above vendor cart. I’ve taken a page from the Rose Bowl floats. My cart will be built with natural plant material—edible cannabis. It wasn’t my first choice. I was going to build a gingerbread cart, but I have diabetes and my physician nixed the idea. My research shows that the vendor cart business is a cutthroat one. Failure is high. So, it’s doctor’s orders to eat my business before it eats me.
I asked my wife to go into business with me. She has a better retail eye. She refused. When I asked her why, she said, “I’m not living above a cart that moves around all the time. It goes against all good business sense. Haven’t you heard it’s all about location, location and location.” I answered, “Okay then, we’ll limit the moving to three locations.” My wife sighed, took a sip, then gulped down her glass of chardonnay and burped in my face her answer. I adjusted my vendor cart for one.
While it is a setback not to have my wife on board, I haven’t given up my business dream. In it, my new wife believes in me. I appreciate the moral support because the divorce decree will give half my initial cart to my ex. In my mind, I was surprised she even wanted it after refusing to go into the business in the first place. To avoid starting from scratch, I dream about retrieving my half of the cart. I was expecting a 1.5 x 1.5 downsized version, but instead, I got back a stripped down 3 x 3 cart minus the native plant material. Through the purple haze, I thought I heard uncontrollable laughter. It didn’t sound like my ex-wife’s, but it was familiar. When I got a closer look at my stripped down cart, I realized the plant material had been replaced with gingerbread panels. Then it hit me…the laugh I heard was my physician’s…my wife’s new boyfriend. Together, they had taken the Hypocritical Oath to do me harm. “Hello Obamacare tell me about my mental health benefits.”
Crantz tells the Indy that his second vendor cart is self-driving. Moving around has gone without a hitch. But Crantz believes the self-driving cart has been skimming. His dreamy third wife is looking into it.