If I Were A Billionaire...
A list of the more eccentric things I would do if I magically had the resources
Over the years, I’ve fantasized many times about the things I would do if I were rich.
I mean, I’ve led a fortunate life.
My needs have always been met, and there’s generally been enough left over for quite a few of my wants. But I have never, by any stretch of the imagination, had I do what I want-money.
Like most people, I’ve mostly had Stuff I have to do if I want to stay out of the poor house-money, which…isn’t that exciting.
It tends to involve a lot of shopping at ALDI. A lot of shopping at ALDI, and a lot of asking “Do we really need to run the A/C? It’s only 90 degrees out…”
But if I were rich?
If I were rich, I’d have ALDI deliver. I’d never have to try to dig a quarter out of my purse for a shopping cart again. It would be magical!
But more than that, in compiling this list, I realized I would do some very weird stuff.
And so, aside from the completely obvious answers of things I would do if I had more money, like “I’d replace my falling apart car” or “I’d never again buy weird store-brand soda with names like Dr. Carbonation and Mountain Straight Line Winds, the following is a list of things that I would do if I were very, very rich.
I’d have my wedding reception at the mall.
I…honestly don’t understand why rich people pick such boring wedding venues.
I mean, country clubs are nice. Hotels are nice. I had the reception for my first wedding at the local country club, and it was lovely. We had a great view of the golf course, and people got to eat chicken strips, which was wonderful, because chicken strips are one of my favorite foods.
But also, I spent the equivalent of a used Hyundai Accent on that wedding, and not like, some Certified Pre-Owned Hyundai Accent with a ten-year warranty. The other kind. The kind that nobody is driving by choice. The kind that is only available on Craigslist, Facebook Marketplace, and the sketchy used car lot that promises $0 down and no credit check.
Overall, the wedding was nice. It was tasteful. It came in under budget.
Mostly, it came in under budget.
If I had I do what I want money, there is no way I would have taken such an uninspired approach.
No, I would have gotten married in the most magical place on earth.
The Garden Court at The Galleria.
The Garden Court at The Galleria is where dreams come true. I mean, it has a fountain. Skylights. Views of Nordstrom. Once upon a time, views of Abercrombie, back when Abercrombie had plaid carpet and sold sweaters that would hold up for the next three decades.
When I first saw the Garden Court as a kid, I innately understood that I was staring at mankind’s single greatest accomplishment—the moon landing has ultimately done relatively little for humanity, but The Galleria? The Galleria taught me that there was a world beyond Cape. A world with more beauty. A world with more to discover. A world with polo shirts in every color of the rainbow.
And so, I can hardly think of a more perfect place to have a wedding reception.
I’d become a collector of normal cars.
In case it’s not obvious from my previous post, I really love cars.
I’m not a gearhead. I don’t know anything about how cars work. I couldn’t identify a piston or sparkplug if my life depended on it. And perhaps it’s because of this, or perhaps because I’ve always had a strange fascination with the mundane, I’ve never been one to get excited about Ferraris or Lamborghinis.
What excites me are normal cars—the cars that regular people purchase for doing normal things, like driving to work.
As far as I’m concerned, normal cars are the ones that matter—for every one person who will ever spend an hour in a Ferrari, there are hundreds of thousands of people who will form lifelong memories in a Camry. The Ferrari might be “cool”, but the Camry is what the family piles into to go to the lake. The Camry is what a person will remember when they look back on childhood, and remember Spice Girl singalongs in the backseat. The Camry is what will take a person to his first job, and what will take him to his first house.
Given billions of dollars to indulge weird interests, my garage would be the size of Jay Leno’s, but the collection inside would be a little…different. It would look like the parking lot of a semi-upscale shopping center, circa 1999. Every car I envied in the school dropoff lane as a kid, every car that caught my eye in the Schnucks parking lot would be preserved; dozens of portals back to the days before touchscreen infotainment systems and hybrid-plugin capability.
Portals back to a time when the future seemed much, much further away.
My house would become fantastically maximalist
Throughout my life, “home decor” has always been a practical matter—I try to add as much creativity and as many personal touches as I can, but at the end of the day, budget and resale are never far from mind.
I know that any future potential buyers will probably be okay with white or wood cabinets. I know that any future potential buyers will probably be okay with taupe walls. I know that stainless steel appliances are hardly a quick route to being featured in Architectural Digest, but I also know that at the price point I’m dealing with, nobody is going to be turned away by stainless.
And so, even if I decide to do something wild like paint a dining room coral, I understand that I’m doing something I’ll have to “fix” when the time comes.
Moreover, no matter how creative I get with flea market shopping, and no matter how inspired I feel when I step into Home Depot, my options are ultimately pretty limited. I don’t have $50k to spend on tile period, much less $50k to spend on tile that will ultimately lower the resale value.
But if I were rich?
There would be wallpaper as far as the eye can see. I’d have a slide to connect different levels of the house. Delft tile would proliferate. There would be custom curtains, made from fabric that I designed myself. There would be showers made from glass block, and stained glass windows, and endless built-ins to accommodate the endless layers of books and photo frames and tchotchkes that I tend to accumulate. My house would become an alternate universe; a journey into all of the things that capture my imagination. It would not be a sensible investment. It would not be a blank slate for whichever person comes next. It would be weird and colorful and delightful.
Ducks
Of all of the childhood memories my parents gave me—of all of the dance classes, and tennis lessons, and trips to Limited Too, and vacations to Florida, and the thousand other things I was so fortunate to have—one of the things I’m most thankful for is that my mom let us have ducks.
Waddling, quacking ducks.
In our house.
It was absolutely delightful!
The ducks would swim in the bathtub. They’d follow our Australian Shepherd, Maggie, around the house. They’d do all of the hilarious things ducks do. I’m sure they made a horrible mess, and I’m sure my mom spent a small fortune getting the basement carpet clean, but hands down, the ducks were one of my happiest memories.
I still love ducks. A lot.
Sitting in my living room as I write this, there are no fewer than five duck-themed items in my line of sight. We have duck decoys, and duck serving trays, and duck-shaped baskets. I have McCarty pottery ducks, and duck sweaters, and corduroy skirts embroidered with ducks. My fiance and I will greet one another by quacking; if I’m not careful, I’ll accidentally quack at friends or the cashier at the grocery store. It’s the equivalent of accidentally saying “I love you” to the history teacher, but way, way weirder.
Ducks are, in other words, pretty great.
And unlike my beloved flamingos, ducks don’t need a tropical environment. Ducks don’t need an ocean full of algae and shrimp. Ducks are actually pretty great pets, aside from being messy and needing a place to swim. I wouldn’t even need to be rich at all to get ducks; I would just need to live somewhere with space for ducks.
So, as far as this list goes, this one is actually pretty attainable. But still. Ducks.
Quuuaaack!
…
I don’t know. Was this a particularly serious post? No, of course not. But sometimes, it really is worth it to revel in the silly. Especially this time of year, when the world tends to be kind of cold and grey, and the days need all of the light they can get.
And so, my dear friends and readers, please feel free to share your own silly dreams in the comments.
What would YOU do if you magically ended up with I do what I want–money?
Not the boring, normal stuff that everybody would do, but the weird stuff that pretty much only you fantasize about.
After all, that’s the fun stuff.