(Because we all are childlike when it comes to Christmas)
So I took a little trip to hell Thursday. I knew it was going to be hell. Hell, I had been putting it off for over a year. Every time I drove past the place, i'd see the parking lot was full and think "Oh Well, Alas! The time for this is not now." With new obligations coming I could no longer put it off. Like every good citizen I had a responsibility to do my duty, enter Hell, and get a replacement social security card.
I can not provide you any pictures of the inside of Hell since there are some rather prominent warnings at the entrance about no photography being permitted in the premise according to Title Umpty-Squat of the Uniform Code of Pointy Headed Bureaucrats. I can only imagine the disappoint of the local arts majors when they discovered that they could not shoot their next "Lavoro Nudo d'arte" in those luxurious environs. Be that as it may, there is nothing to keep me from showing you an aerial picture snapped from Google Earth of my local Hell Office:
|My Local Hell Office - Google Maps|
So once I reached the front of the line, either by waiting for the old people with canes to keel over, or for the Minions to actually administer an initial beating, I was summoned to approach the Screening Minion. I groveled appropriately and presented my pre-filled out form. My form must have been good, since, after looking over my form, the Minion handed be a oracle stone in the form of a paper slip. I noted a large sign indicating that:
DO NOT GIVE YOUR PAPER SLIP TO ANYONE ELSE AS IT IS NOW AND FOREVER ASSOCIATED WITH YOUR SOCIAL SECURITY NUMBER AND THEY WILL HAVE THE RIGHT TO EAT YOUR FIRST BORN CHILDRENWhich in retrospect might be a great deal if you have a real cad for a first born child. Since my first born is rather intelligent I immediately surveyed the area for child eating thieves. Not seeing any I joined all the other healthy folks standing around waiting for some old person's incontinence to kick in, forcing them to give up their seats and head for the bathrooms; of which there was only one. I did note this was Hell, right?
So I know you are wondering what is the seating arrangement in Hell's Waiting Room? Well wonder no more. There are a few rows of the most uncomfortable plastic chairs imaginable, facing a large welfare queen sized flat screen TV, with framed pictures of these scary guys off to the right:
|Gay USA The Movie|
Anyway, I watched with much amusement a lady with a Greek passport fill out her forms, then help a guy next to her who spoke broken English and claimed to be a Nigerian Prince. Did you know non-citizens can get social security numbers of their very own? Me neither. I can't imagine why they would want to, but I am told I have a very limited imagination.
Then the lady with 20 kids arrived and really livened up the place adding ear drum splitting crying babies to the general hubbub of old people yelling at Minions about their social security checks disappearing into darkest recesses of Africa.
Finally it was my turn to see the Minion. Here's how it went:
<Minion>: "So your here to get a replace card"
<Minion>:"Form and driver's license"
<Me>: "Here" (handing them over)
<Minion>:<click><glance at DL><click, click>
<Minion>:"We'll mail it to you - Next"
3.5 hours waiting, 30 seconds to transact the business I came to do! Not bad for a visit to Hell. I can't wait to renew my diver's license!