Friday, September 26, 2008

Tic Mark

One of the task items I accomplished prior to our Adventure was the production of an identification card for the teens via the motor vehicle department. This action thrilled them, of course, as it meant one step closer to sliding in behind the wheel of a vehicle on their own accord.

So they think! Ha!

Anyway, it stood to reason that they would have some form of ID to accompany the passports that were also required of them. Mature, logical thinking on our end, right?

Well, I've been glad at that decision numerous times. Both my son and daughter have had occassion to flash their mugs - blue background style - more than once. My son has his handy in his wallet at all times, secured to his person with a cool chain that makes him feel hip and trendy. A must for boys who have just turned fourteen.

I must say, however, that we were totally caught off guard yesterday afternoon.

We unsuspectingly wheeled up to a gargantuan building, and in a moment of awe, took in the reality of where we had been sent for an audition. The paperwork we had received had given us no indication whatsoever that we'd have this honor. Mouths gaping, and with a bit of trepidation, we approached the security guard.

At this juncture, I knew the drill. Produce paperwork, last name, and identification, please. These items are then compared to a list housed electronically on a switchboard inside the guard shack, and, once confirmed, a visitor pass and verbal and/or mini-map is given to direct us to the proper building, located inside the [literal] city before us.

Today, however, all my preparatory efforts were null and void.

No request for paperwork.
No inquiry into the last name.
No request for an identification card.
No comparison with the database.


The security man wanted to see . . .

a headshot.


This was WAY out of the routine, and sent us scrambling into envelopes reserved for retrieval inside the complex . . .not here!

I shoulda known: the best laid plans of mice and men are oft tossed by the wayside, in honor of a lesser means to an end.

Ah well. :D

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