|
The DMV. What a freak show. It's worse than Wal-mart at 3am. (and that, my dear, is an experience I must share with you some time. People watching? Welcome to the People Zoo.) I had to get a new in-state driver's license not too long ago to get a new insurance policy. I got my number, 98. I still remember it because I was thinking "I wonder if these machines do triple digits." The number on the little screen? 54. I began to count the people in the waiting area. It seems we'd lost a few aspiring license holders in the molasses-like pace of the place. This was confirmed by a skinny grey-haired black man who was standing near the doorway. Every time a number would get called three times and pass to the next without anyone standing up, he would lift his eyes to heaven and say in a less than quiet voice "thank you, Jesus.. thank you, Jesus!" I had a book with me I was reading to pass the time. I would nod my head and smile every time I heard him, knowing I had beaten one more person in the DMV endurance test. Finally they called my number and I stood, lifted my eyes to heaven and, with a nod to the unnamed Jesus-thanker, uttered my own "thank you, Jesus... thank you, Jesus!" I poured a bit of my diet Coke on the ground for my homies who didn't make the wait. It seems Jesus had heard enough of all this racket and was beginning to get annoyed. Going through the shopping list of papers they wanted, I realized I'd left some in the car. "It will take me ten seconds to get it," I told the lady. Why is it always a lady? I don't mean to sound sexist or anything... to the contrary, a lady at the tax office when I went to get a FAR delinquent tag renewed ignored the penalties with nothing more than a "Don't worry, baby, it's all fixed." Not so with Miss DMV. "We can't do that sir." "You can't wait ten seconds?" I asked incredulously. "You'd have to take a new number," she said as if this was a "DUH HUH!?" obvious answer. "I don't want a new number. I like this one." "You'll have to bring me all the papers listed here," she said, jabbing at a worn plaque with a Bic pen, "and take a new number." "Thank you, Jesus... Thank you, Jesus!" I heard from the doorway. He managed to look slightly apologetic for a moment when I glared at him. "I've been here two hours," I said, beginning to realize the futility of the situation. "It's a longer than usual wait today, sir, we do apologize" "Really?" "'Really' to which one, sir?" "The 'longer than usual wait' part." "No. We just have to say that in case of complaints." "But you do apologize." "Just barely. The state apologizes and sympathizes with your situation." "Well, isn't that just peachy of the state." "I'm sure." "Anyone ever tell you that you have lovely eyes?" "Sir, do you see that State Trooper over there?" she said with a sideways nod of her head. "The one who looks like Apollo Creed?" "Who?" "Never mind. Yes, I see him. Why does he look so angry?" "He's not getting enough fiber in his diet. If you don't clear the window for the other applicants, I'm going to ask him to shoot you." "At this point in time it would be a mercy kill." "Sir-" "I'm going, I'm going." I grabbed a new number. 09. Great. Rollover. "Next!" she called out, looking past me. "Thank you, Jesus... thank you, Jesus!" said the Jesus-thanker. "Oh, shut up." © 2010, h e a t h . h o u s t o n |