This is something I actually think about at about 5:07 every day as I drive home past the billboard that tells me what the lottery is up to ($72 million this friday). I'd open a combo sports-magic-comic book-rare collectible music-cool design stuff store. You could walk in and pick up a PSA 9 1956 Topps Koufax to admire while you listen to a first pressing Dave Brubeck or Misfits records while relaxing on your vintage deco couch, all delivered from my shop. Basically everything I like, but only carry the best things and not get bogged down with the dreck. Well, the comics and cards sections would be pretty full-service for new material, but there would be little in the way of crap back issues and monster boxes of commons. Only choice items for non-riffraff prices. And the staff would all have master's degrees or better in art history, music, and/or kinesiology. They'd all be hot chicks and it would be an adults only store because I'd run it like the crackhouse in New Jack City (or American Gangster). I'd also open a Chik-Fil-A and Chipotle (and maybe Freebirds) in the building next store because I'm a big fan of both and would still maintain a connection to my roots. I'd also have Gino's East pizza flown in from Chicago for weekly staff meetings/****** parties. The comics and music section would also have classes taught by local and national artists. There would be a batting cage in the baseball section. The heliport on the roof allows me to fly back to Stately Smapdi Manor, bypassing increasingly ridiculous traffic, and getting away to my box in Arlington or Houston when the mood strikes. Depending on if I can get the location I want, there might also be a submarine base.