Drivers Licenses and Vehicle Security

Ah, the DMV. Who doesn't enjoy the euphoria of basking in the utopia of the regulatory government system that keeps all traveling peoples safe from mishap, and in perfect harmony? Socialism at its best. Drawing enormous crowds of people, nearly bursting with the anticipation of witnessing the famous, the legendary, the blinding magnificence of the efficiency and expedience that has given the Division of Motor Vehicles it's flawless reputation of excellence nationwide. It was a bright sunny day, the seventeenth of February in the year of our Lord, two thousand and ten, at eleven o clock in the morning. On this day, I, N8 the Net Ninja, drove up to the full service center of the DMV, dripping with all the optimism of a man falling without a parachute. This being my third trip to this office in the past month, as well as having talked to the highly trained and obviously competent employees extensively on the phone, I was confident that today would be no exception of the establishment's reputation. I parked my green, 96 S10 out front, and strode inside to claim a number amongst the hoard of enthusiastic co-patrons. I was present for two reasons. One, was to obtain a copy of my drivers license record for the purpose of applying for the job of RTD bus operator; the other, was to correct certain errors associated with the endorsements on my commercial driver's license. On the first of the three mentioned trips, my Wisconsin CDL had been transferred to Colorado with an endorsement restricting the number of passengers I was allowed to carry on a full size 65 passenger bus, to 15 people. The second trip and the phone calls were made to correct this error, and this third appearance, was to collect a temporary document, and a promise that the correct ID card would be mailed to me. As I searched for an empty seat, I glanced at my number: A275. finding a seat between two people, I scanned the room for the sign indicating the current number being served, which read A120. Blinking a couple times to make sure I wasn't hallucinating, I looked again. The same numbers stared back at me in that cheerful Christmas light red, informing me that I was lucky enough to be able to spend a great deal of time reveling in the excitement of this place. After an hour of reading the book that I had brought with me, the number had changed to A149. As much as I enjoyed being there, another matter began to gnaw at me. For the past few minutes, my chair had been vibrating on and off, and it seemed as if I was hearing the voice of an enraged animal off in an undetermined direction. Realizing that I hadn't eaten breakfast, and it was now 12:00 pm, I came to the conclusion that I must pry myself away from the wonderful gathering, and devote a measure of time to the search of fast food. Returning a half hour later, I exited my vehicle, and sat in its empty truck bed to eat my lunch. After finishing the refuel process, I decided to collect my book from the passenger's seat, and head back inside. I reached for my keys to unlock the door, and found that they were not in my pocket where I had left them. How could someone have stolen my keys right out of my pocket while I ate?? This wasn't the nicest neighborhood in the state, but still, I'm a NINJA! My thoughts were interrupted by something staring at me from the other side of my rolled up windows. I am, of course, speaking of my keys, which were smugly grinning at me, tucked safely in the ignition. "Oh, you think you've won huh?" I said to the inanimate keys, "well, you aint seen nuthin yet! Just wait until I work my magic on this door!". After checking the number in the office, which was now at 165, I marched purposefully into the dollar store next door to purchase a wire coat hanger. "That lock won't know what hit it" I thought, as I bent my new hanger into the shape of a hook five minutes later. Sliding my makeshift slim jim between the window and it's seal, I got to work. Feeling around the inside of the door, my tool struck what sounded like a metal rod. Sliding back and forth, I attempted to hook the lock rod with my highly professional implement, unlock the door, and wow the bystanders who had begun to stare in my general direction. At 1:45pm, I felt a promising amount of resistance on my "slim jim", and gave it a slight tug. I stared with dismay at my now hookless coat hanger, as the former opposite end clunked softly to rest at the bottom of the inside door panel. By this time, the number inside had advanced to A266, so I trudged, momentarily defeated, back inside to take care of business. Once the number A275 was called, I payed $2.50 for my record copy, received my temporary document, and stood while they took another picture of my ecstatic facial expression. Three hours from time of arrival, my business at the DMV was taken care of, and I went back to my inaccessible pickup truck. Having long ago called everyone in my cellphone's directory who might possibly rescue me, and having no luck, I walked to a nearby gas station to borrow a phone book. Finding the section for locksmiths in the stations yellow book, I dialed one of the numbers. After a brief exchange with the woman at the other end, I gave my approximate location, and was promised a call from their technician in a moment,who would give me a price quote. 5 minutes later, my phone rang, and I answered to the sound of broken English. "How much will this cost?" I ask "It be $29 for cost of service call, plus small fee for cost of how door opened." He replies "Can you give me a rough estimate of what that will be?" "No, I tell you when I look at car. Don't worry! It won't be too much, I already on my way, and be shortly there!" After another phone call from him trying to find me, he arrived on the scene in an old beat up Buick. After glancing at my truck, he said "ok, this come to $140". After putting my bulging eyeballs back in their sockets, I informed the man that I could not possibly afford that much money, and that I would have to figure out something else. "How much you think it going to be??" He asked incredulously, "You have to logic your thinking! All other places cost $190 or $200!". When he saw that I wasn't swayed in the least, and that I was making preparations to spend the night there, he started incrementally lowering his price, and receiving no's back. Finally, throwing his arms up in exasperation, he asked "How much would you pay?". Realizing that he wanted to barter, I indulged him. "$60" "$70" "$65" "OK FINE!" After signing the agreement to $65 (which I still wasn't particularly jazzed about), he stuffed an inflatable wedge between the door and frame, pumped it enough to make a gap, and unlocked the door from the inside with a long stick. After charging my visa card, he left to answer more calls, and I drove home. Finally arriving back home at around 4:00 pm, I immediately hid a spare key underneath my truck in the event of future lock-outs. Cheers to exciting days!