I’ve joined Kate today while she and the Chester River Ramblers play Java Rock in Rock Hall. It’s a really cute coffee house and the music is fantastic as always. What’s better though is listening to Ben, the Englisu guitarist and a hilarious Englishwoman who happened to be in the audience banter back and forth about the south vs. the north, the merits of rust on Tower Bridge, etc.
Not a bad way to spend a feverish afternoon.
Oh, readers, this morning was magical. Kate and I drove to Easton, MD to get her a brand new Maryland state driver’s license. At the MVA. Because, unlike the rest of the freaking country, it’s not a DMV. Oh, no…in Maryland, the MVA is an establishment where licenses are given, driving tests are administered, etc. You can see the need for a unique name.
Name aside, the MVA is in Easton, which is approximately 45 minutes away, so it’s exceptionally convenient to just pop on by. Being that it’s a decent haul to get there, Kate rightly visited the MVA website to learn what materials would be required for the state-swap. The verdict: two forms of ID, proof of residence, old license, checkbook. Basically, all the bases were covered before we departed.
We arrived at 10:30 and were greeted by a lovely banner that encouraged us to visit the MVA online to complete our service request more conveniently. There was a sense of certainty in the assembled materials. There was also a feeling of 1996 brought on by the lovely decor of the MVA office. We were certain Janet Reno would dropping by in practical shoes to dial in to the Internet at any moment.
Friends, a trip to the “MVA” or DMV really allows you to wade deeply into the mainstream of your fellow Americans. And it’s simultaneously frightening and delightful. We shared a bench with the most incredible pair of ladies with gorgeous feathered hair. A snippet of their conversation that caused me to double over with laughter:
Woman: “If you don’t take care of ’em, they’ll accuse you of being a bad parent. It happened to me once.”
Kate & I: *intense snickering*
Woman: “…I live by route 50 and I just let ’em out. It’s not like they say “I want to go get hit by a car.” How are you supposed to know?”
Kate & I: *totally dying*
Of course, while all of this is going on, we have essentially an entire Latin American village surrounding us in the MVA. I mean, I can understand coming with your some of your family or consolidating trips. But sweet god: there were grandmas, nieces, aunts, pregnant ladies, dudes in work boots. It was like a damned quinceañera up in there…but with no cake! Honestly, every time I turned around, there was yet another person standing, sitting or kneeling beside the family of five that had started out sitting on the bench in front of us. To make it even more interesting, one of our Spanish-speaking friends decided that her turtleneck sweater was too much to handle and had her friend/sister/cousin tear the collar off. Right off…right there in the middle of the MVA! The assembled herd of children then proceeded to jostle for the right to hold the discarded sweater neck. So much so that the “father” had to escort the neck and at least two kids outside. Seriously.
Truly amazing. I turned to Kate and confessed that I was only worried I wouldn’t be able to remember all of the amazing things I saw to talk about them when we left.
And we left much sooner than we had imagined, even with an hour and fifteen minute wait. Because, it seems, the MVA decided to change their licensing requirements to include TWO proofs of residence and only one form of ID. They just hadn’t published them online yet. So, when Kate’s number was finally called, all the woman behind the counter could give her was an apology and a brochure of the new requirements.
In a rage, we hauled ass to Starbucks and then took our Starbucks to Wendy’s for twice the consolatory fast food.
Observations from evening number one with High Definition DirecTV service:
That is all for now, I think. I’m rather enjoying this upgrade but I feel that, as we enter into hour 4, my brain is starting to rot. It might be time to read.
Sometimes (and this is a rare sometimes for a loner like me) it strikes me just how many people I’ll never know. Like this adorably awkward little girl at the optometrist this afternoon. We’ll sit here in silence, she too young to make conversation with an adult, me not wanting to be that skeezy dude talking to little girls in waiting rooms.
Why though? So many potential conversations are completely ignored day in and out because it’s weird to talk to strangers or we are busy or what have you.
And maybe that’s okay? Maybe that’s what makes the connections we do have matter? Maybe I’ll sit here with my iPhone and she’ll sit with her head in her hands and we’ll go on our separate paths, back out of one another’s realities.
Jalopnik has created a helpful guide to the douch-iest drivers in America…and what they are driving. The United States of Automotive Douchebaggery! Now, before you travel, you can check to see what cars you should look out for in any given area. And here’s a helpful hint you can take to the bank: all of the drivers in Maryland are likely to be terrible, regardless of what they are pushing!
…and I’ve got the photos to prove it! The building was amazing, the tour guides were pretty knowledgeable and overall ambiance was creeptastic. But, I think the key to taking a photo of a ghost is to have a truly cheap camera and a trembling hand because I caught NOTHING worth noting that I didn’t paint in with one of our flashlights. That being said, the photo opportunities in the hospital were spectacular – full of beautiful textures and gorgeous mixed colors. So, if I got nothing out of the experience, it was amazing photos. I apologize for the blurred images…Kate was insistent that I keep them “because they show the frenzied feeling of being there.”
On today’s exciting episode of my life, we’ll be discussing this weekend’s admittedly crazy plans. Kate and I are going to Pittsburgh come Friday to visit her parents/crash at her place/pick up her sister before we depart for Weston, WV. Why are we heading into the heart of red neckery, you ask? Well, the three of us are being locked in the Trans Allegheny Lunatic Asylum from 9pm Saturday until 5am Sunday. Intrepid explorers that we are, we’ve signed ourselves up for an overnight, free-wheeling ghost hunt in this half million square foot, Victorian mental institution. Yes, it’s going to be fun…and totally scary.
So, I need to make a list of what to take along (we are permitted any equipment we want) and I could surely use some ideas of what to do once inside. Here’s what’s going along so far:
Any other ideas? I plan on spending an extended stay in perhaps 2 or 3 rooms after an hour or so touring the grounds. Brian has suggested that I do some long exposure photography in these areas by setting up tea lights for increased ambient lighting. Sounds like a plan. I also want to duct tape up the security cam here and there while we walk about to see if anything shows up while we interact with certain rooms…and when they are empty. Maybe we should try EVP? I personally really want to try out some provocation during the dead hour. We’ll see what Kate and Beth have to say about this. 😛
Yesterday marks the first time I’ve ever gone fruit picking in an orchard and I have to say that it was a most pleasurable experience. Kate and I bumped into Tessa and Mike while out for drinks on Friday night and were invited to go along to Godfrey Farm to pick fruit. “Sure!” was the reply and Saturday morning took us in a borrowed Tahoe (most enormous car I’ve been in to date) to the middle of Sudlersville, MD to the farm in question. With just a few navigational gaffes we found the proper rows of peaches and set to work. Little did we know that peaches grow like gangbusters and the most work you have to do to get them is put out an arm in any given direction.
And that is how we wound up with a half bushel of fresh, delicious peaches. So begins the task of figuring out what to do with them all. If you are within walking distance, expect to receive at least one handfruit this week.
Nick: “Can I place this order online?”
Verizon: “Yes, you can.
N: “Is there any fee associated with doing this?”
V: “I’m not sure…they may have charges that we don’t?”
N: “Aren’t ‘they’ Verizon, too? You are all one company, correct?”
V: “The online orders division has its own procedures and policies.”
N: “That’s totally ridiculous.”
I hate it when companies act as though their individual pieces are wholly separate entities. Especially when talking to customers. Really, it makes the MOST sense from a customer service standpoint to present one solid set of talking points – the same prices, rules and methods. Don’t make me order online because it’s cheaper and then slap me with a fee that I wouldn’t have encountered over the phone. That’s fucking ludicrous.
And don’t make me sign up for another two years of service because I want to change my account to save some money when I’ve already been a loyal customer for one and a half years. Dicks.