I got my new drivers license in the mail yesterday. I also received a letter from Frontier Airlines with my old license that they apparently found. Some of you may mistakenly call that irony.

Some things about my new world:

The guy in the parking lot doesn't like me. I haven't even spoken to him, but he clearly does not like me. And it's not that I purposely don't speak to him, thus giving him reason to not like me. I can imagine him saying to his parking lot buddy, as I drive in, (nudge) "I don't like the looks of that guy." I haven't decided whether I am going to make an effort to establish peaceable relations or launch a pre-emptive strike.

There is a brown paper bag in the refrigerator. Written on it: Free - 1/2 Turkey.

I put the plastic knives in the dishwasher instead of throwing them away. I am expecting an angry mass email any day now.

I had to go to the DMV today to get a license. I lost mine.

While waiting at the DMV things happend.

One thing that happend is worthy of repeating.

A man and women entered the DMV. The man looked kinda like Chris Rock in Terminator glasses. He was in a motorized wheel chair. The women was skinny, twitchy, bug-eyed and looked like no famous person that I am aware of. Although an argument could be made for resemblence to a scare crow.

The women walks up to the little machine that spits out your numbered ticket. She then broadcasts, very loudly, "How you use this thing?"

So, far this probably sounds like a typical trip to the DMV, and it was.

Until...the occupant of the wheel chair jumps up and goes in for a close look at the ticket producing machine.

I like decison makers, people who can make up thier mind. So imagine I would like this guy, as it took him one half of one second to decide that he too could not operate the ticket producing machine.

He then turned to the room in general and made the international sign for "What the fuck?" Which is slapping the oustide of your thighs and then raising your hands and shrugging.

They were quickly assisted by a Paul Allen looking guy. The WTF guy got back in his wheel chair and deftly manuevered through the rows of chairs; being sure to say "Excuse me," when he barely brushed against an unoccupied seat.

Line cutters.

I think it had been years since I had been deliberatly cut in line; until this week in Philadelphia where I was cut in line no less than 3 times. I am talking about flagrant ditching. It happend twice in the airport alone. White male from New York who dealt exclusively in nonsequitars, young black woman who didn't speak English, old lady at the hotel, there was no clear demographic.

But maybe I am looking at this the wrong way though. What is it about me that says, "Cut me in Philly?"

I just don't know.

There is an article in today's seattle times about the bartender at the infamous Moon Temple. Here is a quote from one of the regulars:

"I've been coming here for 38 years, and Harry is the best part of that," said customer Dave Rainsberger. "It is the noblest thing in the world for a bartender to be able to look at your face and get you a drink before you say a word."

That's right:

"the noblest thing in the world" is being grunted at and having a drink thrown your way.