(no subject)
So when we were driving back from Myrtle Beach, at some point my front license plate fell off. My dear fiancee has some concentration lapses on the way home, and a pit stop in North Carolina revealed it's death. I do distinctly remember upon purchasing the car, that the front plate wasn't too tightly screwed on, and basically forgot about it after that. So we got home, and I looked up the law, and sure enough, you need both plates on NYC, so Monday, I took a lunchtime trip to the DMV to get new plates. I drove down to the station on Union only to find a note stating that they closed it. Bastards! So now I was being forced to drive to ECC South. So much for getting this done in time. So I drove down there, and stood in line, and informed the woman at the customer service desk. She gave me the paperwork, and told me to take off the other plate and surrender it. I asked for a screwdriver, they had none. It's never that easy. I take my number, 88, and see that 86 is up, so time is limited. I race out to the car with a paperclip and a prayer. Apparently someone up there doesn't like me. The back plate is screwed in pretty tight, and isn't impressed with my paperclip improvisational skills. I start tearing through my car looking for something else. The best I can find is two pennies in the ashtray thing. Like before, the back plate is similarly unimpressed with my two cents. It's been about 5 minutes of tearing through the car, and glancing at people with a look of extreme desperation and I'm sure that my number has come and gone, and I still have to go back to work. Finally a woman and her daughter come strolling past, I plead with them for a screw driver. The woman looks through her purse, and produces a pair of flathead tweezers. At this point, I could give a damn if they break, so I jam them on and lo and behold, we've got movement. This is a good thing, because two minutes earlier, I was so desperate, that I tried the paperclip again to no avail, and angrily whipped it into the trunk, only to have it ricochet back at, and off my face. So with license plate in tow, I race back in, and look at the number counter, still on 86. It's a miracle after all!!! Within 5 minutes, I get called up, and it appears that the person behind the counter either has no sense of humor, or I'm not very funny. Unable to deflate my ego (the paperclip ended up somewhere in the parking lot), I decided that clearly no sense of humor is a requirement for a government job. I get my new plates, race back to work, only 30 minutes late, and extremely flustered, and another fun experience at the DMV is over.
Also, my baseball tournament is Saturday, at the park off Losson in Cheektowaga. Should be a good time. I jogged for the first time in over a month yesterday, 2 miles, and did a pretty good job. Can't wait to get back into a regular pace.
Also, my baseball tournament is Saturday, at the park off Losson in Cheektowaga. Should be a good time. I jogged for the first time in over a month yesterday, 2 miles, and did a pretty good job. Can't wait to get back into a regular pace.