For most of the time I lived in Germany, the mark was the coin of the realm. Marks came in different colors and sizes, depending on the denomination. They also were worth significantly less than the dollar (this was pre-Bush), so, when shopping, it was easy to slip into a dreamlike state, where marks were like Monopoly money.

Twenty marks? Ah, that's only about $12 ¦ what a discount! It's practically free!

If you shopped overseas in those days, you may recall this feeling yourself.

A trip to Istanbul enhanced the experience: Less than $100 made me a millionaire in Turkish lira. What a trip that was. I threw lira about with abandon. I lit cigarettes with lira. Monopoly money.

I had thought my Monopoly days were behind me, but now the phenomenon has drifted over into time.

If, like me, you've lived most of your life in the 1900s, you may still be having this feeling yourself.

The other day, I noticed that my handicapped sticker expires this year. When I renew it, it will be good until 2011. The universe kind of tilts when I think about that. The next presidential election will be in 2012. The kids entering school this fall will be the Class of 2021.

Does this feel like Monopoly time to you? Or maybe science fiction?

And, speaking of science fiction, do you ever feel cheated?

It was mostly a relief when George Orwell's predictions for "1984" came to nothing.

But, mostly, I'm thinking of the lifestyle promised me by those classic cultural icons like "The Jetsons." I want my flying car, dang it. Or "Lost in Space" - remember the cool hair dryer-like thing that you could program to give you any "do" you wanted?

In this, the 10th year of the 2000s, I want peoplemovers and space travel and, yes, I want Scotty to beam me up.

What is really so different about our daily lives, as compared to our childhoods?

OK, the Internet is way cool; I am all about shopping in my jammies. With cell phones, I truly never walk alone.

But, when we old people were kids, the new millennium had a cosmic, spooky, sci-fi miasma, didn't it? So much would be different - lasers, household robots, a magic machine in the kitchen that whipped us up a nice snack.

Mostly, I'm still schlepping around in a car that only moves on the ground, and calling people on some kind of phone - shopping at a grocery store and making my own snacks.

Time travel. Whatever happened to time travel? When I bought my ticket into the future, I was assured that I'd be swanning about the centuries, wearing jet boots, and assisted by erudite robot companions sounding a lot like Michael Caine.

Little did I know I'd be cooling my figurative jet boots, stuck in a game of Monopoly.

(Reach Derri Scarlett - who has a hotel on Park Place - at derriscarlett@;yahoo.com. Her column runs on alternate Tuesdays.)