*Subtitle: Dude, seriously… this is your vacation?

I can't believe I forgot about this. There's a key part of the last post that I completely forgot. About a month before our vacation, Girlfriend said something like "Since we'll have all that time, I should finally get around to watching Lord of The Rings with you." I couldn't believe she'd said that.

I'd tried unsuccessfully to get her to go with me to the theater when the movies were new. When the first movie came out, she said she didn't want to wait years for the rest of the story. And when the other two movies came out, she didn't want to see them because she hadn't seen the first. Once I had all three DVDs, I tried several times to get her to watch them with me. Like a trooper, she tried to tough it out once or twice, but never seemed to stay awake past the first half hour. Sitting on the couch knowing that a gigantic fantasy epic lay before her turns out to be a powerful sleep aid.

But anyway, we agreed we'd watch it on our vacation. She promptly forgot about this conversation, but I did not. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a Lord of The Rings nut, but it is a damn good movie, and I knew she'd like it if she'd gave it the chance.

That first Sunday night of our vacation was when we began the great movie odyssey of 2005. We made it through about two-thirds of the first movie. Pretty impressive, given that she'd never made it past the first half hour before.

**********

Monday morning involved a whole lot more nothing. As this rate, I just might break the record for least amount of calories burned over a ten day period. Somebody call Guinness.

Monday afternoon we went out for lunch and then went to get haircuts for me and The Kid. (The excitement is overwhelming, isn't it?) The Kid was just about to start school, so we figured this would be a perfect time to tame that unruly mop of his. Since he's still not on speaking terms with Messrs. Brush and Comb, the only real solution is to keep his hair short.

Plus, I wanted a new haircut so I looked my best for my next adventure… the Department of Motor Vehicles! (I know, my life is so much more fabulous than yours!) I dropped Girlfriend and The Kid off at home and went to the DMV office to renew my soon-to-expire driver's license.

It's been seven years since my last license renewal, so they were at a brand new office now. The place is huge compared to the old one, which now sits abandoned on the other end of the parking lot. There were a few dozen cars parked outside, but I wasn't concerned. After all, this place was huge. They've got to have way more service windows than the two they had at the old place, right?

Right! I walked in to find a glorious six service windows. Two of them were actually staffed. And the entire population of a small city was waiting in line. I swear, the place looked like a refugee camp. There was a family cooking over a camp stove in the corner. People were building shanties out of DMV brochures. There was a sign over the wastebasket reading "No diapers in this trash receptacle." The quiet implication was "If you've brought small children, you'll be changing them five times while you're here."

Right inside the door was a large sign advising me to take a number. I took the little arrow-shaped scrap of paper. My number was 89. The little sign on the wall gleefully proclaimed "Now serving: 46."

Fuuuuucckk. I sure was glad I took the time to fill out the paperwork at home, so I'd be ready for instant service when I got there. I looked around for a seat. Naturally, there were none. Cue the heavy sigh.

I didn't really have a place in line, and I did have my number, so I went back to the car. I dug around behind the seats until I found my prize: a pair of headphones. I rarely go anywhere without my pda, so now I had music to pass the time. I went back inside to find the happy little sign still reading "Now serving: 46."

I stood against the wall to wait. My nostrils filled with the scent of the refugees cooking fires. (Was that a cat on their spit?). The minutes ticked by in slow motion. 47. 48. 49. 48. 47. That's not a typo. The number occasionally went backwards, just to spite me.

I did the math in my head. "They've been open since 8 a.m. It's now 2 p.m. They've served 46 people today. That's six hours to get half way to my number. They close at 5 p.m., and they should be getting to my number at about 8 p.m. Fuuuuucckk."

I was going to be standing in this cramped, hot office for the rest of my vacation. And the only thing worse than waiting in a crowded DMV office is standing and waiting in a crowded DMV office. I needed one of those seats. Needed one.

50. 51. 52. Slowly, a plan formed. 53. 54. 55. I was standing next to a row of chairs. I looked down at the man on my right. 56. He was sitting with his arms folded. 57. In his hand was his paperwork and his number: 66. I grinned. I had my idea.

I took the pda from my belt and sifted through my available songs. 58. I selected a song. 59. I began to sing, quietly at first, then a little louder. 60. I started to dance. 61. Everyone was watching. 62. Keep in mind, I'm very white. What I call "dancing," other people often call "seizures." 63. I looked down at Mr. 66, a thin balding man in his 50s who was trying very hard to not look at me. I serenaded him with my sweet rendition of 50 Cent's "In Da Club." "My flow, my show brought me the dough, that bought me all my fancy things…" I turned around and did a little booty shake just for him.

Then I turned back and asked, "Can I have your seat?" He jumped up like he was sitting on a spring. Heh. Perfect. 64. I had my seat, and Mr. 66 would only have to stand for a few minutes.

I sat down triumphantly. I could not contain my grin. The young woman to my right said something to me. I couldn't hear her over my music, but she had a sour look on her face. I turned up my volume just a bit. "I'm sorry, I can't hear you." She frowned and said something else. "What? The music's too loud, I can't hear you." She frowned again, almost a comically large expression.

She grabbed her purse from between her feet and got up. She walked across the room… and sat in one of the dozen or so empty seats on the other side of the brochure rack. D'oh!

I glanced up at the happy little counter (Now serving: 65) and then buried myself in an eBook while pretending I was the only one in the room. Make an ass of myself? No, what are you talking about? I'd never do that. Everyone staring at me? No, of course not. I'm just sitting here reading a novel, waiting quietly.

I retreated into my own little world, glancing up at the happy little now serving sign occasionally. When my time neared, I turned off my music and waited quietly. Finally my number was called and I bolted up to the counter. I waited about two hours and was finished in about three minutes. My form was filled out correctly, I knew the fee and had exact change, and I flew through the cursory eye exam.

I had to wait for a few minutes to get a new photo, but I was still out less than ten minutes after my number was called. The only downside was that dreadful photo. I have short hair, but the light in the photo booth is up high. My new license photo shows the shadows of my ears and makes me look like I have a mullet.

<sigh /> I'm stuck with a mullet picture until 2012. The Curse of Riddick strikes again. At least he left my crotch alone today.

Lord of The Rings update: Monday night we finished Fellowship and made it almost half way through Towers. She actually reached the point where she started getting interested in the story. But when I started disk one of Towers she noticed the menu and asked, "Does that say 'Extended Edition?' If there's a shorter version, why in God's name aren't we watching that??"