True-life adventures at the DMV ...

Greetings, loyal pi readers. I apologize for my extendo-absence, but the little beasts I've been wrangling have taken up all my snark of late. However, I had a fun little experience today that I just had to share with all of my millions of fans.

So, I moved back to CT about two years ago, and since that time I've neglected to change over my driver's license from NY State. Don't know why, since NYS is a boil on the ass-end of life, and I really hate the picture, but for some reason I've just not bothered. Possibly because CT was supposed to be a rest stop on the way to the rest of my life. However, since I now seem kind of permanent here, it's about time to get a new license.

So I went to the DMV yesterday. Logical step, no? I had with me my NYS license, still valid, and a checkbook, which was pretty much all I figured I'd need to get my brand spanking new CT license. However, apparently I needed to prove even better that I am who I say I am, besides, you know, a valid state ID with my picture on it. "I need a passport or a birth certificate, and a piece of mail to validate the address change," the laconic counter attendant told me. Okay, it's 4:10, you close at 4:30, looks like I'm coming back tomorrow. That's okay, the hour drive to get here was really fun.

So I bundle back into the car and head on home. Once there, I gather the things I need, which requires an extensive search through my mysteriously reorganized room. But, in a couple of hours, I find the things I need. After work today, I head back down to the DMV, once more into the breach. (Side note, this has the added benefit of getting me out of parent-teacher conferences, so not so bad) I talk with another bright and sunny representative, who asks me, "What were you missing yesterday?" "Uh, my passport and a piece of mail ... {thought bubble - what am I missing now?} ..." She makes a few crytographic marks on my application and says, "Okay, it's $40 to process this part." I make out the check, hand it over, and she says, "Sit over there until they call you." Sure.

So I sit, and I wait, and I write a little note to myself to pass the time (in which I convinced myself that it really is time to break up with him - oh well, can't save 'em all). After about fifteen minutes, I hear my name called. "Xool?" I pop my head up and go to a different counter, where I'll be probed and tested and processed for the next counter. Ah, so, but that fate was not for me. "We can't interface with New York," the little old salt said. "We can talk to Texas and Florida, but New York just went down, so we can't talk to them." "... Okay ..." "You can sit and wait and see if their system comes back up in the next 25 minutes, but we lock our door at 4:30." "...Okay..."

So I sit, and I wait, and I hope that with the power of my mind I can make the interface happen and break free from this last piece of New Yorkiana that is in my life. But there is no love for me at the DMV.

Who knows? Maybe tomorrow will be the third time charm that I need. Wish me luck, pi-ans.