I'm a big winner

I have been getting calls for a Mr. or Mrs. Foley for several months now, or sometimes just for Ilene, and each time I tell them they have the wrong number and don't think much of it.

Until today, when apparently I won a giant sweepstakes. After I told the caller that once again he had the wrong number, he said "Look, I am just trying to reach the man or woman of the house with this phone number. It's been entered into a sweepstakes and we have been trying to reach you for a while to claim the prize, which is a new Mercedes Benz or a $1,500 shopping spree."

Me: Right. Okay. Well, I guess I am the woman of the house.

Man on the phone: Great, then you are eligible to collect these prizes. You just have to take down this 800 number and call Mark Foley.

Me: Mark Foley?

Man: Yes, he can arrange for you to collect your prizes.

I know, I know. There is a catch. There is always a catch, but I have to tell you, a significant part of me got a bit excited, and I would be lying if I hadn't already pictured my hair flapping in the wind as I screeched down the street in my new sleek Mercedes, windows rolled down, reggaeton blaring. Oh and all the things I could buy with $1,500..... Shoot, I'll call this Mark guy.

A woman answers the 800 number, saying something about a sweepstakes collection center. I ask for Mark. He's busy, but maybe she can help me. I explain the situation, how I'm not Mrs. Foley but apparently my phone number won and so I'd like to kindly collect on these prizes and by the way, can I choose the color of the car?

Enter the catch. All you have to do is take a 90-minute tour of some suburban Illinois resort and then I will be directly ushered to the garage where my shiny black sports car is waiting with the keys in the ignition.

Instead, tomorrow I will be behind the wheel of a giant boat of a rental car - I am banking on a Cutlass Supreme? - packed high with the last of my belongings, shedding a small tear as I leave this fabulous city of mine.