Since Malia Obama is the daughter of one of the world’s most recognizable leaders, it’s easy to forget that she’s just a regular teenager who plays soccer and tennis, goes to music festivals, and, like every teenager has done at some point, has presumably screamed, “I hate you! I’m running away to our mansion in Hawaii!” Malia turned 16 in July, and, as is the right of passage for every American teenager, got a car two days after her birthday.
News came out this week that it was the Secret Service who taught Malia how to drive. We have managed to obtain a transcript of Malia’s first driving lesson with the Secret Service.
(Sound of doors opening and closing.)
Malia: Hey. I’m Malia.
Agent X: First rule. Don’t ever tell anyone your name. I’m Agent X.
Malia: Uh, okay, but like, everyone knows who I am. Because of my Dad.
Agent X: First and foremost, he’s the President. I didn’t learn how to kill a man with my teeth to protect him because he’s your ‘dad.’
(Sound of seatbelt being pulled.)
Agent X: What are you doing?
Malia: Putting on my seatbelt?
Agent X: No! No seatbelts! If someone has a bazooka pointed at the car and the only way to live is to barrel roll out the door, taking off your seatbelt is going to cost you precious seconds.
(Sound of seatbelt clicking in.)
Malia: That is so not gonna happen.
Agent X: One of us is paid to sense danger. Hint: Not you.
(Audio is garbled here, though it could be a heavy teenage eyeroll. Keys jingle. Car starts.)
Agent X: You are so lucky I checked for car bombs before we started.
Malia: Car bombs? WTF?
Agent X: (exasperated) I don’t know how you made it all the way to 16. The first thing you want to do is to hit the gas pedal as hard as you humanly can.
Malia: Which one’s the gas?
Agent X: Don’t ask questions! Do it! Do it now!
(Tires peel out.)
Agent X: The louder those tires squeal, the faster we’re out of danger!
Malia: Ugh. What stinks?
Agent X: Burning rubber. That smell means you’re moving as quickly as you can to protect the President.
Malia: (nervous) Aren’t we going kinda fast?
Agent X: We have to go faster if we want to outrun the terrorists!
Malia: Terrorists? Dude, what is wrong with you?
Agent X: Quick, jam the steering wheel left!
Agent X: You’re never going beat the terrorists with that ‘question everything’ attitude!
(Tires peel again.)
Malia: We’re totally going to tip!
(Tires still peeling.)
Agent X: Straighten the wheel!
(Tires stop peeling.)
Agent X: So there’s a bit of math to learn to figure out if you’re going to tip over or not. Given the weight of this car plus how fast we were going, if we’d waited another 5 seconds, we’d both be dead.
Malia: (screaming) What is your problem?
Agent X: The calculation is pretty complex, but with practice, you’ll learn to do it under the most strenuous conditions. There’s a faster way to do it in metric, but we’re a freedom country, so-
(Shots are fired.)
Malia: Is someone shooting at us?!?
Agent X: Don’t worry. It’s just other Secret Service agents.
Malia: Those had better be blanks!
Agent X: Why would they be shooting blanks?
(Bullets hit the car.)
Malia: Because they could totally kill us!
Agent X: (laughs) That’s always the danger!
(More bullets hit the car.)
Malia: You should be teaching me how to make a left hand turn and like how to back in! I’m just going to be driving to the mall and stuff! Not running away from crazy people shooting at me!
Agent X: Lincoln was killed at the theatre. Nowhere is safe.
(There’s an explosion. One of the tires is blown out.)
Malia: We’re going to roll over!
Agent X: Multiply by 7, carry the 1…Yep, we’re going to roll. Be brave! We’ll land right-side-up.
(The car rolls over several times. Metal crunches. Glass breaks.)
Malia: Holy crap! You were right! We landed the right way up! Agent? Agent!
Agent X: (struggling to breathe) You have…to get out of here…smells…like gas…
Malia: (tearing up) I can’t leave you.
Agent X: Dammit, Malia. I’ve taught you everything I can. Someone has to protect the President.
Malia: I understand now.
(Sound of door handle. Melia can’t get the door open. Sound of kicking, then glass shattering.)
Malia: Dammit. Seatbelt is slowing me down! You were right. I should never, ever wear one. Thanks for teaching me how to drive.
(Sound of seatbelt being taken off. Glass crunches as Melia goes out the window.)
Agent X: I die doing what I loved. (singing) Sweet land of liberty-
(BOOM. Car explodes.)