The new pc is supposed to be here today, so I will hang around the first floor of the house today, for fear of missing the FedEx guy over the roar of the vacuum cleaner or something . Then, the excellent Computer Handyman of Md will be here to hook it all back up and the house will seem normal again. Well, you know what I mean.
I've accompanied a friend to the Maryland Motor Vehicle Admin. offices up in BelAir, and this has been about the most time I've been in the MVA in about ever. I tell you, you could write a book just from what you see up there. There were a couple of dozen nervous teenagers studying the driver's handbook for the 432rd time while waiting for their number to be called. And no matter what teenaged socioeconomic group the kid came from: be he or she a preppie, a dweeb, a stoner (there was a dead ringer for Jeff Spicoli, even down to the Vans on his feet and the potsmoke miasma faintly hanging around him) a young biker or a New American, they were all jumpy as a cat in a room filled with rocking chairs.
My buddy Danny had a long wait one time at the MVA and there was One Of THEM in the throng...Joe Sixpack complaining about the wait, grumbling about the inefficiency of the State employees, carping about how He should not have to wait along with the little people . In Maryland, you take a slip with a letter and a number and wait for that to be called. When you're called, you hear your alpha/# called, and it flashes above on a screen.
Danny took a picture of the querulous one as he lumbered away. It showed his number very well: A55.