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Tuesday, August 19, 2003

I leave for New York City tomorrow, and as such needed to get my ID prior to departure. You know what that means? I had to go BACK to the MVA. I felt like nothing so much as Sigourny Weaver in the Alien sequels, though armed with my grim determination, I did what any sane person would do: failed to go to sleep monday night, instead getting to the MVA 45 minutes prior to their opening. My thought was, of course, "Nobody else in their right mind could POSSIBLY want to go to get their license renewed or anything silly like that before the sun is even fully up!"

I underestimated, once again, how dumb other people are. I got there at 7:50 AM (they open, as you may have guessed, at 8:30) and already there was a line which went from the door, spilling out across the sidewalk, 400 feet back around the parking lot. There were, as I later found upon recieving my number, at least eighty people in front of me. I'll repeat that. The Motor Vehicle Administration, at the crack of dawn, had nearly a hundred people standing around in one of the TWO lines. Upon seeing this, I went to check my car for something to read (I hadn't brought a book since, again, I doubted that people were that dumb if they were not me.) Anyone who has been in my car recently knows what comes next: The only book I had was what I believe to be empirically the worst trash ever printed, Consiliance. This experience was quickly turning in to a clear approximation of Hell. I was discouraged, but not defeated.

So after waiting the forty minutes for them to open (during which time, the line grew to at least 150 people) I got to wait in line another hour to get a NUMBER to deal with the ACTUAL people. It's at this point that I lost my faith in humanity, when I found out that some of the people ahead of me were, and I say this with all due respect, "learning disabled." One woman, as a proof of residence, had brought in an envelope with no stamp, no postal mark, and no return address, which ONLY had, written in MARKER, her name and address. Another, and I wish I were making this up, brought as her two proofs of residence a Comcast cable bill and.... a Comcast cable bill. But the one which takes the cake is the following, which just warmed my heart:

Woman, in broken English: I need to renew the license it is the expired.
MVA Spawn: Let me..... (checks license)... no, you don't need to renew it.
Woman, who I want to punch in the neck: It say expired now, July, I need to renew the license.
MVA Succubus: You don't need to renew it until next year. July Oh Four.
Woman, who makes me sympathize with Bucchanan: Yes, need to renew.
MVA 'employee': Ma'am, do you own a calendar? It's 2003...

I swear to Christ, that is as close to a verbatim account as I can give. I finally got a number, waited for another hour and a half for the numbers to advance from 11 to 26, and got my license, costing me $50. If I EVER have to go to the MVA again, I'm bringing a Colt M4 and am strapping dynomite to my chest. There's no way I'll go in so poorly armed again.

cranked out at 4:57 PM | |

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