This has never happened before. I lost my drivers license. I don't know how it happened but I blame the dog. "Scooter, bad, bad dog! You won't be fed for the next six months."
That damned dog does it every time. Last week he forgot to buy toilet paper and now THIS.
This had caused me to spend an afternoon at the Colorado license bureau which is ironic because I'll be living in another state in another 7 days. I'd take my chances and go without a license but I have to drive through Utah next Sunday and I've heard how cruel their prisons are - second only to those in Guatemala.
Here at the license bureau they still use those paper "take a number" thingys. I got here a half hour ago and they were on #59. Let's see, they're now on #60. That's good news...things are moving faster than normal.
The facility is in a mall. Remember those things? Where I sit I have a great view of the women's clothing department at JC Penney. I think I see some of the wife's clothes that we sold at the garage sale last Saturday.
I wonder how much one of these other people in line would take to sell their number? A number in the low 60's would be a hot one right now...I'd go as high as a buck but, then again, I'm a big spender.
"Number 61, please". Now we're cooking.
When we lived in New Mexico the service at the license bureau was so slow that the state enlisted the help of a commercial firm. There was a catch...you had to pay an extra $5 for the service. "Do I hear $10?"
"Number 63, please."
"Number 64, please." Hmmm....nobody answered...the number holder must have split...wimp.
"Number 66, please." Wait, what happened to #65?
A guy just came in and sat next to me. He's #83. I feel for this guy as much as if he were a Somalian refugee. He'll probably miss out on the birth of two of his children while waiting in this line.
"Number 67, please. Another no-show.
"Number 68, please."
"Number 69, please." One of the state workers just got back from lunch and things are picking up a bit. Let's face it, three slow bureaucrats are better than two.
"Number 70, please."
Amazing how happy the workers are here. I'd be a little surly if I had thirty sets of eyes peering at me with extreme hatred. Hmmm, the worker who just came back from lunch is leaving on a potty break. She must have had a few beers.
All of a sudden #74 is called.
As I approach the cubicle the bureaucrat tells me "sorry, sir. We're only on #73. I hit the button twice by mistake. Stand over there, please."
Someone call Kevorkian.
Readers, enjoy your day.