Only Me Part 2
The DMV looks like Ellis Island when you've had your friend's car impounded for driving without a license. I'm getting ahead of myself. Sometimes Melong and I will carpool to work. I'll drop her off and then take the car over to my work because there is parking available. That was the plan on Monday. Getting pulled over because the registration sticker wasn't on the license plate wasn't part of the plan.
I've been driving with an expired license since my birthday. I didn't renew by mail because I wanted a new picture. I mean come on, they took it when I was 18. I'm like many years older now, and far more attractive, so why wouldn't I want a new picture. Whatever, I'll just take a day off work when I get a chance and take care of it, or so I thought. I had planned to take a couple of vacation days around Thanksgiving to spend some time with my grandparents. My first day off will be the 23rd. Now I will spend that day in court. Turns out that driving with an expired license is punishable by jail time and a one thousand dollar fine. The cop, "did me a favor," and didn't take me to jail. Thanks a million.
"I'm sorry sir, but I have to take the car," the police man said with sympathy knowing that doing his job was going to really screw me over.
"You have to take the car where?" This didn't make any sense. I was on my way to work and was certainly going to be late. Hadn't he taken enough time out of my life? Apparently not.
I handed over the key, wished him a good day, looked around for a second and then started to walk. I suppose I'll walk to work since I'm a block a way. I informed my coworkers that I was in, but was not going to be in, as I had to go to the DMV to renew my license so that I could get Melong's car back from the impound yard.
In a furry, I walked from Macromedia at 8th and Townsend to the DMV on Oak and Broderick. Not to mention I'm sick as a dog and it's about two degrees outside; great way to start the week. I walked into what I'm sure was some sort of welfare office. Am I here to get food stamps? I took another look around and saw a sea of chairs like a theater. Would there be a show? I wondered if this was like when Ronald McDonald's red van would make an appearance at the Novato McDonald's. Ronald would set up shop in the parking lot, do a little ditty, and be on his way. My mom was somehow friends with the hamburgler. She continues to go out of her way to embarrass me to this day.
I asked the first available, disgruntled, DMV attendant to help me. She assigned me a number and sent me on my way. Now I'm like some kind of bingo ball in the machine that calls numbers for the lottery. I looked down at my ticket, G133. Just as I did I heard a voice from above. "Now serving number…” I knew it must be God talking to me at this delicate moment in my life. "Now serving number B12." Correction, it was Satan speaking to me from beyond the gates of hell. I took my seat and grabbed my book. You can't read, however, when they call out numbers every two seconds because you lose your place, so I put my book aside. I looked around for wireless routers thinking this would be a good chance for me to get my work done. No such luck. I filled out some paperwork and waited. And waited. And waited some more, and then I was up. Five minutes later I had a license.
Swell, I thought, now all I have to do is get Melong, go to the tow place and get the car. I had lunch with Monica and then I headed downtown. I met Melong and forced her to hug me. She did, probably reluctantly since I had her car towed to a junkyard. We headed for the courthouse. There we waited in more lines. Then paid four hundred dollars to get a little map showing us where the car was. Pier 70. And why wouldn't the car be at pier 70? If I were to tow a car, that's exactly where I would tow it. Melong and I hoped in a cab and headed back to her work. I thought, sweet, I'm downtown; I'll take a leisurely stroll to the embarcadero, grab a coffee by the piers and get the car. I walked to the embarcadero. It was drizzling at this point. When I arrived at pier 40, I realized that pier 70 was quite a ways away. Now I was really starting to have a case of the Mondays. My cold had now developed into full-blown pneumonia. I walked down the embarcadero past SBC park, all the way to Macromedia. That was quite a walk. I went inside and ate a donut. Gunita came down to meet me in the lobby. "What am I going to do with you Harris?" She looked awake as she mumbled to me but I was pretty certain that she wasn't. I was positive that she hadn't done any work all day, but life is hard when you have to juggle AIM, MSN, and the Yahoo Messenger.
Gunita dropped me off at Pier 70. Have you ever seen the "Brave Little Toaster?" I saw this movie when I was a kid and it's the first movie I ever cried during. I locked myself in my parent’s bedroom as my emotions ran high. Watching TV had never caused such a reaction in me before and I was ashamed. I cried really hard and when I was done I unlocked the door. Desperate foreshadowing.
San Francisco's impound yard was just like the junk yard in "The Brave Little Toaster." I thought for sure Melong's car would be picked out of the sea of cars by a giant magnet on a crane. The crane would swing the car around and drop it right in front of me. Unfortunately for, the stories sake, it wasn't that dramatic. Someone drove the car around from behind me. I got in and drove downtown to pick up Melong. It was just time for her to get off of work.
I'm really looking forward to my court appearance. Whenever I go to court I always catch myself laughing out loud as someone walks through the courtroom doors. I always hear the theme song to the People's Court in my head. I really can't do that when I attend court. That would be just my luck, plead guilty and then laugh out loud. The judge would think I'm some sort of a crazy person. Maybe I am.
Ok, my bad, lesson learned, and I'm a lot poorer for it, but what are you going to do? Let us all remember as I suffer that driving is a luxury, a luxury that can be taken away from you in an instant. One wrong turn of the wheel and my day could have been a lot worse.
I've been driving with an expired license since my birthday. I didn't renew by mail because I wanted a new picture. I mean come on, they took it when I was 18. I'm like many years older now, and far more attractive, so why wouldn't I want a new picture. Whatever, I'll just take a day off work when I get a chance and take care of it, or so I thought. I had planned to take a couple of vacation days around Thanksgiving to spend some time with my grandparents. My first day off will be the 23rd. Now I will spend that day in court. Turns out that driving with an expired license is punishable by jail time and a one thousand dollar fine. The cop, "did me a favor," and didn't take me to jail. Thanks a million.
"I'm sorry sir, but I have to take the car," the police man said with sympathy knowing that doing his job was going to really screw me over.
"You have to take the car where?" This didn't make any sense. I was on my way to work and was certainly going to be late. Hadn't he taken enough time out of my life? Apparently not.
I handed over the key, wished him a good day, looked around for a second and then started to walk. I suppose I'll walk to work since I'm a block a way. I informed my coworkers that I was in, but was not going to be in, as I had to go to the DMV to renew my license so that I could get Melong's car back from the impound yard.
In a furry, I walked from Macromedia at 8th and Townsend to the DMV on Oak and Broderick. Not to mention I'm sick as a dog and it's about two degrees outside; great way to start the week. I walked into what I'm sure was some sort of welfare office. Am I here to get food stamps? I took another look around and saw a sea of chairs like a theater. Would there be a show? I wondered if this was like when Ronald McDonald's red van would make an appearance at the Novato McDonald's. Ronald would set up shop in the parking lot, do a little ditty, and be on his way. My mom was somehow friends with the hamburgler. She continues to go out of her way to embarrass me to this day.
I asked the first available, disgruntled, DMV attendant to help me. She assigned me a number and sent me on my way. Now I'm like some kind of bingo ball in the machine that calls numbers for the lottery. I looked down at my ticket, G133. Just as I did I heard a voice from above. "Now serving number…” I knew it must be God talking to me at this delicate moment in my life. "Now serving number B12." Correction, it was Satan speaking to me from beyond the gates of hell. I took my seat and grabbed my book. You can't read, however, when they call out numbers every two seconds because you lose your place, so I put my book aside. I looked around for wireless routers thinking this would be a good chance for me to get my work done. No such luck. I filled out some paperwork and waited. And waited. And waited some more, and then I was up. Five minutes later I had a license.
Swell, I thought, now all I have to do is get Melong, go to the tow place and get the car. I had lunch with Monica and then I headed downtown. I met Melong and forced her to hug me. She did, probably reluctantly since I had her car towed to a junkyard. We headed for the courthouse. There we waited in more lines. Then paid four hundred dollars to get a little map showing us where the car was. Pier 70. And why wouldn't the car be at pier 70? If I were to tow a car, that's exactly where I would tow it. Melong and I hoped in a cab and headed back to her work. I thought, sweet, I'm downtown; I'll take a leisurely stroll to the embarcadero, grab a coffee by the piers and get the car. I walked to the embarcadero. It was drizzling at this point. When I arrived at pier 40, I realized that pier 70 was quite a ways away. Now I was really starting to have a case of the Mondays. My cold had now developed into full-blown pneumonia. I walked down the embarcadero past SBC park, all the way to Macromedia. That was quite a walk. I went inside and ate a donut. Gunita came down to meet me in the lobby. "What am I going to do with you Harris?" She looked awake as she mumbled to me but I was pretty certain that she wasn't. I was positive that she hadn't done any work all day, but life is hard when you have to juggle AIM, MSN, and the Yahoo Messenger.
Gunita dropped me off at Pier 70. Have you ever seen the "Brave Little Toaster?" I saw this movie when I was a kid and it's the first movie I ever cried during. I locked myself in my parent’s bedroom as my emotions ran high. Watching TV had never caused such a reaction in me before and I was ashamed. I cried really hard and when I was done I unlocked the door. Desperate foreshadowing.
San Francisco's impound yard was just like the junk yard in "The Brave Little Toaster." I thought for sure Melong's car would be picked out of the sea of cars by a giant magnet on a crane. The crane would swing the car around and drop it right in front of me. Unfortunately for, the stories sake, it wasn't that dramatic. Someone drove the car around from behind me. I got in and drove downtown to pick up Melong. It was just time for her to get off of work.
I'm really looking forward to my court appearance. Whenever I go to court I always catch myself laughing out loud as someone walks through the courtroom doors. I always hear the theme song to the People's Court in my head. I really can't do that when I attend court. That would be just my luck, plead guilty and then laugh out loud. The judge would think I'm some sort of a crazy person. Maybe I am.
Ok, my bad, lesson learned, and I'm a lot poorer for it, but what are you going to do? Let us all remember as I suffer that driving is a luxury, a luxury that can be taken away from you in an instant. One wrong turn of the wheel and my day could have been a lot worse.
3 Comments:
oh baby.
seriously, what are we going to do with you?
we need to get together for some soup! that'll cure everything.
The moral of this story is to let your vanity go and renew your license by mail to ensure you are not caught without one...but i'm one to talk. I spent over 4 hours at that very same Welfare Office to take a "better" picture. In the end, the old foto where my hair was half blond was way more fun than the new foto where i look like an alien.
Tell me again why a celebrity like you doesn't have a chauffeur?
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