Chris has an 8am meeting with new clients at Pebble Beach, but he’s new in town and completely lost on the Monterey Peninsula. In the midst of his cursing and thrashing about within the cockpit of his car, he turned on the built in emergency phone system called OnStar. A woman’s voice came from nowhere, which startled Chris and caused him to veer off the road and into a mailbox.
“My name is Linda. Are you OK, Mr. Rogers??
Chris, mistaking Linda for the voice of God reprimanding him for all of the sex, drugs, and rock ’n’ roll he experimented with in college, started to cry.
“Please, Linda-God. Have mercy on my soul. I promise I’ll be good.?
“Mr. Rogers, this is OnStar. Look at your dashboard. See the OnStar button??
“Oh, hah. Yeah. While you’re on the phone, can you give me directions from wherever I am to the nearest hospital and then to Pebble Beach??
Inevitably, as often happens with these new fangled OnStar devices, Chris, despite following the directions exactly and making u-turns as instructed, found himself completely lost. In fact, he wasn’t just lost. He had come to rest in the Monterey Peninsula ghetto. Yes, there is such a thing.
So, no hospital. No golf. Probably, no new clients. And now he’s lost in the ghetto. Worse yet is that he just noticed that the no-flat tires on his Cadillac didn’t make it their guaranteed 50 miles.
I think it’s quite obvious what happens next. His car breaks down. He is forced to strip from his golf clothes and is beaten with his driver by a 12 year old.