Death Evasion
I arrived at the DMV this morning at 7:00 AM hoping to beat the rush; even at this hour, however, there were two people in front of me. The workers, which were supposed to have the office opened at 7:00, had not yet arrived, so I (and the quickly growing line) waited outside in the cold of the morning. When the doors opened, everyone rushed in, grabbed a number and began scribbling furiously on the looooong paper. Thiry minutes and $24.25 later, I was walking out the door past a now sizable crowd with an ugly picture of myself and a motor vehicle report. Mission Accomplished.
I was spoiled last night. Spoiled rotten. I'm no good to eat now.
My friend and I were taken to a local "fun center" by a man from our church. He paid for everything, including gargantuous shakes we bought on the way home. For a while I felt bad, but in time I accepted the treatment and enjoyed the evening.
I felt really terrrible, however, when I realized that someone I had been laughing at was mentally handicapped. While we were in line for go-carts, we noticed that one of the cars was going ridiculously slow - A snail's pace. We laughed at his predicament and felt sorry for the lad with the "sucky" car. He was passed by everyone at least once, and at the end of the race, returned to the pit about 20 seconds after the person before him. Our laughter was abruptly cut off when we saw the driver and was replaced by a grave silence. "Oh," I thought, "so it wasn't the car..."
Whoops.
I was spoiled last night. Spoiled rotten. I'm no good to eat now.
My friend and I were taken to a local "fun center" by a man from our church. He paid for everything, including gargantuous shakes we bought on the way home. For a while I felt bad, but in time I accepted the treatment and enjoyed the evening.
I felt really terrrible, however, when I realized that someone I had been laughing at was mentally handicapped. While we were in line for go-carts, we noticed that one of the cars was going ridiculously slow - A snail's pace. We laughed at his predicament and felt sorry for the lad with the "sucky" car. He was passed by everyone at least once, and at the end of the race, returned to the pit about 20 seconds after the person before him. Our laughter was abruptly cut off when we saw the driver and was replaced by a grave silence. "Oh," I thought, "so it wasn't the car..."
Whoops.