About twenty years ago, I owned and managed two limousine companies. I had three stretch limousines, two ten, and one six passengers, along with ten Lincoln Town Cars. For corporate events, I leased several ten-passenger vans, luxury coaches, and when necessary, SUV and buses. 

Being quite busy, it was sometimes difficult to find drivers for certain scheduled rides, especially for the ten-passenger vehicles, buses, and luxury coaches, which required commercial driver's licenses. 

Whenever I was short a driver, I would have to do the ride myself. All the cars had two-way radios and mobile phones installed on the dashboard, so I was never out of contact with a driver if he/she was lost, broken down, or had some other emergency. 

I remember one evening when all the cars were booked, but one of my ten-passenger stretch drivers never showed up to pick up the car. Despite numerous attempts to contact him, I was unsuccessful. He was supposed to pick up a Bachelorette party of eight, an hour away, and take them bar hopping in New York City. 

It was rapidly approaching eight o’clock, with a nine o’clock pickup, so I changed into a suit and tie and headed to the pickup. The ride was booked for six hours, with multiple stops, so I was ready for a very long night. 

Upon arriving at the pickup point, (the bride-to-be's mother’s home), the group was all standing in the front yard drinking. There were about twelve women on the lawn, some drinking right from the bottles of Champagne, while others had various cocktails in their hands. They were extremely loud, and it looked like they were more than on their way to being drunk, including my passengers. 

As I got out of the car to introduce myself and open the back limo door. One woman approached me yelling. “You’re late! You were supposed to be here at eight o’clock! I’m not paying for the hour since you couldn’t get here on time.” 

I calmly told her that the reservation was for nine, but she insisted she was right, and I was wrong. I’ve dealt with so many drunk people over the years that I just said, I’m not going to charge you for the hour I was late.  

Seemingly happy with my response, she yelled to another older woman. “Maria, bring me my camera.” 

She yelled again, this time summoning the bride-to-be, Carol. “Carol, get over here and take a picture with this jerk. I want to have his photo for the police in case he molests you tonight.” 

“Excuse me. What did you just say?” 

“I want to show the police officers your picture in case you do anything to my daughter. I see how you’re looking at her.” 

“Lady, I don’t even know which one of these women she is, and it really doesn’t matter anyway, since none of them are getting in my car. Call another limousine company.” 

As I shut the back door and walked to the driver’s side, the mother was yelling and cursing at me, threatening to sue me, and for ruining her daughter’s Bachelorette party. I just shook my head and got into the stretch to leave.  

At that point, the bridesmaids ran in front of the car, blocking me from leaving as Carol ran up to my window, begging me to take them to New York. She started crying, asking why I was ruining her plans. I said, “I did not ruin your plans, your mother did. If you’re looking for someone to blame, blame your mother.” 

Carol screamed when she heard the noise behind the car. Her drunk mother decided to smash one of the taillights on the limousine with her bottle of Champagne. The bridesmaids moved away from the front of the car, and I pulled away.  

While the mother thought she won a victory, I drove off laughing since I had her one-thousand-dollar cash deposit that she was never getting back.