Confidence Before You Blow.

Walking down the street this morning I came across a phenomenon that I notice most often when I'm in a city, any city really. Spitting.

While the hawking and pa-tooing that comes along with spitting is rather commonplace here, I witnessed a rare breed or expectoration, the Farmers Blow.

So here's the question I pose. It's in three parts.

1) Do you know how to farmer blow?
2) If so is it a genetic ability like rolling one's tongue? or is it nurtured?
3) And finally, if it is nurtured, how do you know if you can do it? Practice? Trial and error? or you just know?

For those of you who don't know the farmer blow, I can explain.

The farmer blow is when you hold up a finger, often times the thumb for effect, to the unclogged nostril and blow hard, expelling mucus from the other nostril directly to the ground without the aid of tissue or hawking. This is often followed by the 'swipe' to clean up any access that didn't escape with the rest, subsequently followed by the wiping of said excess on your shirt, pants, what have you.

It truly is a miracle that I'm willing to get to the bottom of.

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Blackballed at the DMV

It has become abundantly clear to me that the State of New York does not want me to have valid NYS drivers license. Furthermore it's clear that the State of New York will hire just about anyone to work at the Department of Motor Vehicles. Largely your big credential would be skin, though the hygiene of said skin can certainly be suspect. Additionally, raiding Dr. Heathcliff Huxtable's supply of sweater and sweater related clothing almost ensures you a lock in management.

The blackballin began nearly 5 months ago when I, in my infinite wisdom thought I could zip in and out of the DMV in Hudson, NY. Scenic Hudson is an antiquer's paradise, nestled in this hills of the Hudson Valley. Besides being known for their antiques and healthy eateries, they are also know for having the only governmental offices for miles.

I descended on the DMV with all my paperwork prefilled out. I had my old MI license, my passport, and enough cash for a license, registration, title and those lovely vintage coffee tables being sold down the block. After waiting on the Info line for about 10 minutes, I was informed that New York State no longer allows you to get a drivers license without a social security card.

But what ho? what's that you say? Hudson also has a social security office? And it's across the street?

I cross the street, and enter what can only be described as the most sterile office you will ever seen, like when Neo is being interrogated by Mr. Smith in The Matrix. The line of 3 people takes nearly half an hour. When I get to the front, I fill out the proper paper work and the clerk gives me a letter, on SSO stationary which states that I, have infact ordered a new Social Security card and it will arrive within the next 10 days. This letter is proof of the transaction and it is signed by the gov't rep. She tells me that it may work at the DMV to get my license. So back we go.

At the DMV, the info line, now down to 2 people moves quickly. I produce the aforementioned SSO letter. The DMV clerk tells me that no letters, facsimiles, photocopies or emails will be accepted so I would need to wait for the actual card to arrive.

Fast forward 5 months.

With a light week at work, I decide to take the day off and head down to the DMV in Herald Square. The commute went without event.

When I arrived, the 3 person deep info line was moving reasonably. When I got to the front, the clerk who was there was seriously the most bizarre person I have ever laid eyes on. He looked like he had horns that had been removed. His horn head aside, the roll in his eyes told me I was screwed, but I pressed on. I mentioned that I needed a license and I have moved from Michigan, I had my MI license, my passport etc. and my Social Security card. It's important to note that I told him I had a MI license. He sent me to line 1 posthaste.

Line 1 took about 1 hour. But all the while I was clearly in bizarro world. The people in front of me were talking about how one of their mothers was so ripped she could kick anyone's ass. The DMV was certainly filled with entertainment that day as I was fortunate to witness two seperate altercations. Both between clerks and clients. Simply perfect.

I get to the front, produce all my paperwork, produce my ID and get ready to pay.

"Whaddya got here? A Michigan license? There's no issue date on this."

"So?"

"Well New York State will not accept out of state licenses without issue dates"

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Nah, that's the law since Sept, 11th., I don't know why Michigan doesn't have issue dates on their old licenses"

"Old? I just got this last year"

"Well you either need to ask Michigan to give you a new license, or request and abstract of your driving record. When you get that, we can issue you a license"

"Seriously? I took the day off for this"

"You need a abstract....." - I just walked away.

How come the guy at the front desk, or fuckit, the person in Hudson tell me about the Michigan license problem. The clerk picked it up right away, I can't imagine that they didn't know. He can't be the last line of defense on this.

The post script: I called the SOS of Michigan and asked them about the abstract. They informed me that they get this problem all the time from NY residents. My $8 check should ensure fast delivery of my driving record.

Next time I go, I'm bringing witnesses.

Posted by davidissimo  ::  Permalink  ::  Comments [6]  ::  

If it wasn't for my horse...well you know the rest.

My daily commute takes me across two subway lines, and all told it's about 30 minutes. So when I'm not in the mood for music, I like to take the opportunity to eavesdrop on my fellow commuters. Almost every time, I enter the conversation midstream so I don't know what the story's about, but the slice I do get is nonetheless interesting.

Catching those snippets of conversation, whether they be on cellphone, to a fellow person, or to oneself always make the trip more interesting. For instance:

I'm walking by a woman on the corner and all I hear is, "I'm keeping it. My God what a slut.", or a little further down the block, "lawyer says it will be fine as long as I don't talk to you about it."...perfect. Over the next half hour I get to imagine what that was all about.

However, yesterday, this simple pleasure backfired on me to the point of my wanting to kick some ass.

On the (2) heading down to Times Square, two guys get on the subway. Silent for a second, one dude says to the other, "Hey, you know Jason (something, I didn't catch the last name)?", The dude sitting down, listening, replies in the negative. The first guy goes on "Well, You won't believe what happened to him over the break."

Now, I'm thinking, me and the guy sitting, we are in the same place with this story, we don't know the main character, so it's a clean slate. This guy could be talking to anyone and it wouldn't make a difference.

He went on to tell a 20 minute story about how the guy, Jason, was going to get a bonus in lieu of severance package, then lost the bonus because his company was bought by another company. So he was fired and lost his severance. Then he was rehired by the new company at a significant pay cut, but now he has a severance package in place. However, he was planning on quitting the first job to begin with.

I watched as the dude sitting took in this story. But after 20 minutes, I realized it was the worst story I have ever heard. It didn't go anywhere, and since neither the dude, nor I had anything invested in Jason, we literally were being told a story for the sake of this guy talking about something. I wanted to kill him.

Especially since there was a lovely "I can't believe he did that" conversation happening two people down.

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