For instance, sometime between Tues-Thur of last week a very nice, ethical, moral, unselfish and I'm sure considerate person decided to cut the T off my license plate. How nice. Well the T was connected to the portion where the license tab was secured.
The bad part was that I noticed it after already consuming one or two margaritas at Botanas. As most of you know I rarely go out anymore let alone drink. What a freakin' buzz kill. And it wasn't the last stop on my list of places to go. After plenty of H20 and watching Jason belt a few out at the Ale House Karaoke, I went home.
Luckily there was a 5-O drivin by the front of my place. I stopped him and he gave me instructions and the number to the non-emergency police. Great, I can go to station 5 and they will take care of everything for me. Double confirmation. And it's open 24-7 so I will go in before work tomorrow and get this situation fixed up.
Station 5 - station 5. I must find station 5. That's where the MPD will fix my problems. Yeah Right. I finally found Station 5 just off Locust and 4th. But they informed me I must go to the DMV. Both the officer and non-emergency operators were incorrect. They can only help me if my entire license was taken. Since it was only one letter the DMV is the place to be. - and to get a new driver's license since mine was "accidentally" broken in half - hmmmm
Okay - I've never been completely happy with the service there, but I know the tricks. So - back home to grab anything and everything that could potentially send me to the back of the line, to wait, for them to tell me they are closing the window and going on break as I get to the front (this has happened to me TWICE!).
But before I could make the trip to the que, I had to run to the zoo and drop off some materials for work that day. Done. I decided to try a different DMV in hopes of a more fortunate experience. After deciding a route, from the help of Al and Frank, I was on my way to Loomis. Have I mentioned that I can't drive on the south side (I get hopelessly turned around). But I found it. But guess what! The camera wasn't working. Arghhh. I got my plates there and asked for directions to the next closest DMV. On to Chase Ave.
Now 3 hours into my excursion I enter the DMV located next to Chuck E Cheeses. I knew I forgot one supply (check book, other forms of ID, old license, and change for parking meters all accounted for) - my spanish translation book! I was the only person in the entire place not speaking Spanish. This is on my list of things to do, but until I get off myspace speaking Spanish has taken the back burner. I could manage in French and get by in Portuguese, but not-so-much in Spanish.
I waited in line for 40 minutes for the guy by the numbers to say holabuelso con permisotulabula shirll sdkfjasldfoiwaejtadsklfj - Si? I said, "I'm not quite sure what you said, as I speak English eh je parle en peu francais. Eo fala un beaucoup je Portuguese mice Mi no abla espanol. But I need a new license as mine is broken in half and I hope you can help me." He gave me a number and told me to sit in section A (I think).
As I was sitting there zoning out as I felt like I was in a foreign land. My numero was repete beaucoup de temps. Uno tres quatro... Uno tres quatro. Finally the Guy gets on and said, ONE, THREE, FOUR - ooops that was me.
I really need to learn spanish!