People have been telling me for years, twelve in fact, that I shouldn't have my social security number on my driver license. Thursday I remedied that. As I sat and waited along with the unwashed masses, I noticed I had a seat very close to the restrooms. I noticed because, in that hour and a half waiting period, four different times people came out of the restroom breezing past my seat trailing the unmistakable sweet tinged backwash of marijuana. Almost got a buzz just sitting there.
The other reason was that I last renewed on Halloween in '93. That doesn't seem significant in itself, except that everyone working at the DMV that day was in costume, many of them on purpose, it appeared. There was much joshing and kidding, and as I stepped on the line to have my visage purloined for permanent identification for the next decade or so, someone pushed a button that blared an ear-splitting blood curdling scream.
My not-unexpected reaction was to break into an ear-to-ear grimace, referred to thenceforth by my beloved as "The Whoopie Cushion Face." At numerous airports across this great land and at least three others, Persons behind counters have squinted at my license, peered at me, squinted, peered (I wore contact lenses at the time, enhancing every aspect of this ridiculous Alfred E Newman grin) until I've offered, "Do I have to do the face?"
No longer. I have a newly minted picture, more like my day-to-day glower than some hyenic snark, and my social security number will now be known only to those who ask.
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2 comments:
Too bad that now you have to look like you. Not that that's ALL bad you know. Hope you were able to save the Whoopie Cushion face pic.
I need to get you one of those tshirts that says "FBI", and then when you look really close it says "Female Body Inspector". Because Kent is right, you DO have "That Look" to you.... and who calls it "grass" anymore??
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