I have a horrible fantasy. It’s dark, disturbing and completely out of character. But when I’m honest with myself, it’s very, very real.
I sometimes fantasize that I drive a minivan.
And it’s not just any minivan. It’s a white Honda Odyssey with family stick figures and a school mascot and everything. It’s got tiny wheels, regular plates and more cup holders than Victoria’s Secret. There’s a tray in the back seat, a bunch of TVs with headphone jacks and a sliding back door with a button to close.