Armed with the pink piece of paper and my social security card, I marched down to the DMV knowing that I was going to have complications. And I did. I finally asked to see the manager after getting nowhere with the lady who divvies out the numbers. I tried to explain to her that I was in a catch-22 situation. Michigan, the state was born in, now required a photo I.D. to be uploaded and sent before they would issue a birth certificate. After going round and round with the manager, I finally asked her, “Don’t you remember me?”
“Sir, I see hundreds of customers every day and right now I cannot think of any reason why I would remember you?” she stated.
“How about this. About two years ago you called the FBI on me because you thought that I was going to shoot this place up.”
That’s when a flash of recognition crossed her face. “Oh yeah, I remember you now Mr. Bomber,” she stated in a tone indicating that perhaps trouble was on the horizon again.
“That’s good. I’m glad that you do because now you can identify me and be my second form of identification.”
“Mr. Bomber it doesn’t work that way,” she stated dryly.
“It has to work that way. To get a birth certificate I need an I.D. To get an I.D. I have to a birth certificate, which I cannot get without an I.D. I am in an impossible situation here, so I tell you what. I’ve have had enough of this charade with you people. I guarantee you that before it is all said and done and over with, you people will issue me an I.D,” I proclaimed.
“Mr. Bomber is that supposed to be some sort of threat?” she asked.”
“Not at all,” I stated. “I am promising YOU that if you do not help me out by issuing me an I.D. today then I am going to drive you people crazy up in here!”
“Mr. Bomber, I don’t have time for this, I have work to do” she said as she started walking away.
Before she could take more than two steps I launched into singing our national anthem – quite loudly I might add. Not only did I succeed in stopping the manager in her tracks, but also I was so loud that I had attracted everyone’s attention in the DMV as I screeched the song out in my tone deaf tenor, “O say can yoouuu seeee, by the daaawns early light…”
That’s about as far as I got into the song when two security guards appeared out of nowhere, flanking both sides of me. The funny thing is that’s when the customers in the DMV started clapping and cheering, I even heard one patron yell out, “Boooo!”
“Excuse me sir,” one of the security guards said. “I am going to have to ask you to leave now.”
I didn’t bother looking at either security guard. Instead, I focused my attention towards the manager and proceeded to tell her, “You might want to tell these two gentlemen beside me that they can not make me leave this building until the end of the business hours, nor do they possess any authority to remove me. What’s even better is the first amendment of the U.S. Constitution affords me the opportunity to not only the power of assmbly, but also the freedom of speech. It is what is know as the freedom of expression, which I plan exercising until either you give me what I came for, or the end of business hours comes first. Check this out, “99 bottles of beer on the wall, take one down, pass it around, 98 bottles of beer on the wall…”
I didn’t make it to 96 bottles beer on the wall before the manager broke. “MR. BOMBER, IF YOU’LL STOP SINGING I WILL ISSUE YOU AN I.D. FOR CRYING OUT LOUD!”
Several minutes later I strutted out the DMV with my new identification in hand and a smile on my face as I heard some of the patrons clapping and cheering as I made my exit.
Thank you for taking the time to read this.
Please feel free to share or repost this entry along with my contact info with others – thanks!
Contact me via snail mail:
David Bomber #1130793
Nottoway Correctional Center
P.O. Box 488
Burkeville, Va. 23922
Email me by submitting my name or Virginia State ID number (1130793):
http://www.jpay.com
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