The belly of the beast

(For greater effect, click the video as you read)

With all of my DMV trouble and a flagrant inability to pay them, I got to plotting.  I regarded and discarded schemes at an alarming rate, sometimes juggling two or three at a time.  Each fell like dominoes as they bore scrutiny from the master chess master.  Finally, a twisted scheme formed through the ether.  Infiltration!

I set out on foot to the DMV building on 24th and Broadway with my tools of the trade.  I checked and rechecked my plan along the way.  With butterflies in my stomach, a lingering sense of unease, and a full measure of confident bravado, I climbed the wheel chair ramp to the front entrance.  I looked over both shoulders, subtly.  And I took up a position.

With the front doors in sight, I leaned upon the stuccoed pillar.  I had schemes on my mind and a silent cell phone to my ear, "Oh ya man, I just have to finish work up here at the DMV where I work and am totally not faking like I work here."  Another look around.  It appears my cover is still intact.  The completely disinterested drones of our government bought it.

Seeing an employee through the glass doors, I wrap up my faux conversation, "Alright girl, I'll call you after work at the DMV where I work and am not an impostor."  Shutting my phone, I approach the door where the monumentally over weight automaton exits.  A polite nod.  From me.  A look that is something like scorn but possibly indigestion.  From her.  I'm in.

Negotiating the labyrinth of two government security people who are clearly alert enough to notice a double whopper in front of them can be tricky.  They have spaced themselves for maximum coverage on opposing ends of the picnic table they man.  I feel my brow as it begins to sweat.  I hope they won't spot me.  I then remember that I'm a chameleon with my disguise.

fool-proof subterfuge

I move purposefully through the lobby without attracting even a glance.  Phase one complete.  Now it's time to meet the inside man.  I give the signal and he comes out with my supplies.  One cinnamon roll.  Two bags of corn nuts.  One diet Pepsi.  And one bag of cheddar sour cream ruffles.

I walk by a remote cubicle and drop the corn nut bag.  I excuse myself to the lone worker and smile sheepishly.  Then I stuff my face with a handful.  And moan slightly.  Before finishing the corn nuts, I put a piece of the cinnamon roll in my mouth in her full view and walk around the corner.  The anticipation is breathtaking.  She takes the bait.  I see her peak around the corner of her cubicle with barely concealed salivation.  Feigning indifference, I set my goodies down on the table and walk off.  She follows her nose.  Phase two complete.

Making my way back to her cubicle, I become aware of my time frame.  She'll inhale the goodies in 5 minutes flat.  I can only hope that the ruffles will dry out her mouth after the pepsi is gone and force her to procure another beverage.  I sit at her desk and notice her name tag.  Lucretia Brown.  I rifle through her drawers and see her birthday was in 1982.  There is a password prompt.  "LBrown82".  Denied.  "LBrown1982".  Denied.  My brain works furiously.  "Sweet thang 411".  The computer hums.  Access granted.

Phase four is complete.  All I have to do now is access my record and make the necessary changes.  The moment is here.  I can't believe I'm so close.  Involuntarily, I swipe the sweat off of my face with my sleeve.  The plastic nose and mustache is beginning to itch.  I type in my name.  4 results.  It asks for a social to narrow it down.  I enter the digits.  I press enter...

A shrieking siren goes off and an alarm klaxon that must have come from a battle ship erupts.  Confetti falls from the ceiling.  I don't know if I inadvertently set off the self destruct button or if I am the one millionth customer.  I look at the screen.  It says "Warning! Fine overload!"  Any further tampering will activate the pneumatic birdcage and I'll be trapped.  I'm forced to beat a hasty retreat.  Next time DMV.  Next time.