The key to luxury riding

Some people out East — rich enough to not have to rough it in any four-in-a-one-bedroom share in some Hampton — patronized the Hampton Classic last week. It’s the Tiffany of horse shows, where attendees are so rich they can afford Crapdammy’s tax surcharge that will soon be slapped on a hot dog. Mustard is extra.

One friend decided to flash his brand-new Rolls, because what good’s a Rolls-Royce if you don’t show the thing off, right? So he took me for a ride. I was only marginally excited since years back my husband had one — only ours was famously always in the shop being repaired.

My friend was driving. Me in the back seat. Then, this friend parked because he needed to get something. Me, I’m still in the back seat. He hugs me then shuts my door. OK. Fine.

Frozen in time

Not so fine. His errand took longer than expected. I’m locked in the back seat. I want out. Can’t get out. This super vehicle with elegant leather seats, frosted windows, TV cameras, flower vases and air conditioning, without any visible mechanism to switch off, turned the car into downtown Alaska.

I am frostbitten. My friend has disappeared, obviously forever. I decide to get the hell out of this car.

Can’t! Can not! How?!

No handle, no visible lock. No window opener visible. No key. No mechanism. No magic number to punch in to open the damn thing. Nothing. I am locked in a strange, freezing, untested vehicle alone with no way to get out.

I look around for a lever, a latch, something besides my nail file to get the hell out. There is nothing that stands out. The inside is as smooth as a baby’s behind. Windows didn’t even open. And I couldn’t find my phone.

Eventually, by the time I’d turned into a popsicle and was feeling scared, the owner returned. He then showed me a small obscure unprepossessing flat button. Hidden. It blended right into the interior. Didn’t jut out. Wasn’t seen. Push the thing and the door opened wider than Crapdammy’s mouth.

Subscribing to a new way of life

YEARS back, pollster Frank Luntz told me:

“It’s a new life. Now it’s all through today’s media. Remember 1968’s Chicago Democratic Convention? Vietnam War protesters? Fights in the streets? Looked like the world’s breaking apart.

“Now CNN’s down. Talk is tweets, not healthcare. Social media’s become the street protester. A phenomenon. No way to resolve itself. Everyone’s being entertained. Being provocative.”

State of disrepair

Until Donald Trump ousted dictator Nicolás Maduro, the East 51st Street Venezuelan Consulate was closed and desolate. Falling apart, like the country. Now comes a different day for the US and Venezuela. It has a new friendly leader, Delcy Rodríguez. Plus a huge oil deal announced by POTUS last week. Suddenly, passersby notice the building has come to life. Crews of workers who should be repairing the LIE are fixing the structure’s facade and readying it for maybe a reopening of what used to be a country. A true mazel tov for us all.

PRESIDENT Trump’s new airplane is so state-of-the-art it will now be able to lose a passenger’s luggage onboard.

Only in the US, kids, only in the US.