Doing time at the DMV

 I had to go to the DMV a while back to renew my photo ID.  (I don’t actually have a driver’s license; I’m far too jumpy to drive.  And, believe it or not, Rhode Island makes you renew your photo ID too.)  The building was packed with the usual assortment of people.  I was lucky to sit next to a lady and her elderly mother; the lady herself bitched steadily for two hours about the wait, blah blah blah, Massachusetts has quicker service, blah blah blah, I’m taking time off from work I can’t afford, blah blah blah, I’m just here to transfer her title –

 

 

(Mom was almost completely silent for the entire two hours I was there.  She’d sit up whenever anyone new came into range, and she’d point and giggle when she saw something that amused her, but she was entirely well-behaved compared to her daughter, the Complaining Machine.)

 

 

At one point the database crashed.  It was explained to us that this was a nationwide phenomenon, not an only-in-Rhode-Island one, and we would be kept apprised. 

 

 

Naturally this sent the whining levels through the roof. 

 

 

On the plus side: I had my brand-new iPad with me, so I was able to answer emails and actually do some work, and play solitaire a bit on the side. 

 

 

Also on the plus side: Rhode Island has a real superfluity of over-thirty men who work out, and who wear nice tight clothing to show off their physical development.  It was very pleasant to have something to rest my eyes on once in a while.

 

 

And my number got called before Complaining Lady’s number.

 

 

I bet she had a stroke.

 

 

So: all in all, it was a good day.