Somehow, my most interesting stories happen at the DMV. I guess that's what happens when all sorts of people are obligated to spend a good portion of time in line. Odd things happen and you see some strange things.
But first: some background.
Over the winter, I lived in Kentucky. Now, I've learned since Washington that moving every six months is a lot of times to change your mailing address, so for now my permanent address is my mom's. Inconveniently, though, the address on my license and registration was my old address, the one I used right of college because I was foolish and so desperate to have a location separate from my family's (poor young naive child that I was), so I had to change the address on my license and car registration so my renewal and taxes wouldn't go (yet again) to my old address at the house I used to rent. Because of the marvel of the technological age, you can do that online, which I did from the comfort of my Kentucky apartment.
Fast forward a week and a half. I am in an accident on the way home from work and my car is totaled. (I started my phone call post at this time, but got distracted by guess what? Phone calls!) Between insurance and body shops and car yards, my phone got a lot of use, and so did my nerves.
Fast forward a month and a half. I've gouged out my savings to buy a new car, which is registered and waiting for me at my mom's house. All that remains for me to do is actually get the car and drive it back to my current place of residence. ...That, and a few minor details involving the car's incorrect registration and my old car's registration.
Since I don't want the good state of North Carolina to think that I own two cars, and since the accident occurred out of state, I had to take my title to the DMV to tell them that my poor car was junked, and also to correct the county listed on my registration. Because that too was wrong. And also to pay taxes on my car because I will never cease to owe the government money just for the privilege to exist.
End background.
On the day of my DMV visit, I arrive early (after finding it, because for some reason the government believes in putting offices in obscure locations), because they have a reputation for long lines which I wish to avoid, but lo and behold, there's already a line by the time I get there. So I settle into the end of the line, and I wait. Now, I like to mind my own business when I'm out in public. I don't like to talk to people, because smalltalk is kinda pointless, and it's a lot more fun to observe.
Sadly, not all people on earth share my view, so of course the scruffy old man who gets into line behind me finds that I Must Be Talked To. So he looks straight at me and says "You look like you've just lost your best friend".
Now, to be sure, I was upset over the loss of my car and my monetary funds, but I would not call my car, nor my money, my best friend. But, in the spirit of being Friendly, I gave him a weirded-out smile and said "you could say that".
Which, naturally, he took as more invitation to talk to me, so he followed that with "do you want to hear a joke?"
Of course, I wasn't sure what sort of joke I could expect from weird old grandpa man, but I was willing to try it out, and I figured I'd hear it whether I wanted to or not, so I said sure I'd love to hear a joke.
This is the joke:
An FBI agent showed up on a farmer's doorstep one day, waving a badge around and saying that they'd gotten some reports of criminal activity and he wanted to take a look around the place. The farmer said "Sure, I've got nothing to hide. Just make sure to stay out of the corn patch over there."
The agent took offense to this and shoved the badge in the farmer's face, saying "see this badge? It means that I can go wherever I want whenever I want, and if that means I want to check out that corn patch, I will."
The farmer shrugged and let the agent do what he wanted because he had work to do.
Five minutes later he hears a loud scream come from the corn patch, and out comes the agent, yelling for help and chased by an angry bear. The farmer cups his hands to his mouth and yells "show him the badge! Show him the badge!"
...I didn't find the joke that funny, but I laughed politely and then proceeded to ignore the old man.
After about two minutes, he found that this was not enough social interaction, and so he pointed to a couple at the desk in line ahead of us, and said "I betcha he's her sugar daddy." I said "oh, do you?" and he said "yeah, I know the type." I didn't know how to take that, so I think I stammered out a reply and then went back to minding my own business. He must have taken that as a sign that I wanted to be left alone, and so I was left alone by the sugar-daddy-spotting-grandpa. Maybe he wanted to impress me with his relationship-spotting skills, or maybe he wanted to become my sugar daddy, I will never know. All I know is that I accomplished my business and left as quickly as possible, to drive off in my new car before anyone else could talk to me or offer to be my sugar daddy.
