Say Hello to My Tasty Friend / by Courtney Mehlhaff

I had the pleasure of going to the DMV last week to renew my driver's license. I'm pretty sure I took a picture that makes me look even more stoned than I looked four years ago, but at least this time I wasn't drawn into a fruitless argument with the woman behind the counter about which county I live in. For the record, lady, it's Ramsey, according to the laws of maps. But you go ahead and put Anoka on there if you wish. Also for the record, I was not actually stoned.

But it reminded me of a story from one of my friends, who found herself waiting at the DMV several months ago. One of her kids occupied the time by playing games with another little boy whose parents were also waiting in line.

At one point, my friend's son ran up to her and asked what the other boy's name was.

"I don't know, honey. Why don't you ask him?" she responded.

Her son ran back over to the boy, who happened to be black, and they appeared to exchange introductions.

Her son then turned, beaming, and yelled across the room for everyone to hear, "Chocolate Alex! His name is Chocolate Alex!"