ardent bullshit comes down every faultline gushing heavily into jest kindly luscious melons nodding openly post quakes resting still to undermind various wonderous xylophones yawning zealously

Thursday, March 09, 2006

Adventures at the DMV

So this week was looking like it was going from bad to worse. Monday when I was doing my laundry somebody took my clothes out of the dryer when they were still wet & used my dry time for their own. It's a longer story than that but not very interesting. I will say, though, that a certain someone-I-don't-know's underpants almost got thrown onto the floor & put back into the dryer. That'll teach 'em without them ever knowing.

Also it's 'that time of the year' when I have a bunch of Progress Reports due & one of them is with this 80 year old professor who, it's decided, tries to make people's lives miserable. Remember, the same one that yelled at me until I cried last year. I'm still confused as to what I'd done wrong. Oh well.

And THEN I had to go to the DMV.

You know what the DMV is, right? The Department of Motor Vehicles. Marge Simpson's sisters work there (in cartoonland, that is). So I left work an hour early to beat the mad DMV rush. On the way there I did things to psych myself up like sing to the radio, eat a bunch of sugar & make up cheers about how much I LOOOOVE the DMV.

YAY DMV I LOVE I LOVE DMV YAY DMV O SHIT WHERE'S THAT FUCKING PIXIE STICK I NEED MORE SUGAR

Pulling through the parking lot I came up with observation #1: I have never seen more cars in worse shape in one place in my life. The whole parking lot reeked of burning rubber & oil. At first I thought maybe the Bookmobile had sprung a leak or something but low & behold it was a couple of the other cars. Seriously, there was more than one car with wire & duct tape holding the bumper on.

Upon entering, I made it up to the counter where I told them what I needed. At that point I quickly realized that the skirt that I wore would do absolutely nothing to get my ass out of there quicker since it had a very strict Numbered Ticket System.

Foiled again.

What to do in a large group of people like this? Read the book that I brought? No. Stare at all the other people in the DMV? Ding. This brought on Observation #2: The DMV may be the closest thing to the perfect population cross section. Seriously, everybody has to go there. It was great. I now want to go back to school for the sociology of the DMV. That thesis would write itself!

Number 34!

Oop! That's me! With sugar in my veins & stories about the people there racing through my mind, I charged up to the counter. The nice lady there greeted me with a smile & asked me what I needed. Change of address. She went into the system & started changing stuff. New address? Merlin's Palace. Organ donor? Take 'em all. Voter registration? Yes please! And then there was a glitch. Uh oh! So the manager man came over & started to fix it & ask me the same questions. Address? Merlin's Palace. City? Chicago. State? (there was a bit of a pause here because I was stunned at his question, considering not only do I not know of another Chicago, but also that I was at an ILLINOIS DMV) Illinois. All done at Station #1, a few more to go.

While waiting for my new license the Screaming Child demographic & Dude Talking Entirely Too Loud in Public on his Cell Phone demographic showed their faces. Poor kid really wanted apple juice. But dude, the dude on the phone. He might have been my favorite. Not thinking that little whitey would understand Spanish, he very audibly was telling someone how he nailed some chick the night before. Sweet. Porn at the DMV. I concealed my giggles behind On the Road. (fitting, huh?) Then comes Observation #3: Not only is every socioeconomic group represented (& quite close to proper statistics, I might add), we are all on a level playing field. Thus, I now have the feeling that the DMV is the closest to equal treatment that I've ever witnessed. Nobody's bending over backwards for anyone, nor are people being treated worse than anyone else, either. I wonder if this is what Pergatory's like. Well, without the industrial carpet. There's NO WAY that Pergatory has industrial carpet.

On my way out, I walked with a bouncey gait, past the poorly attached bumpers, smell of burning rubber & newly 16 year olds wanting to pass this test more than any other they have ever taken so that they could, at last, be kind of free, to the Bookmobile.

Hi Bookmobile, I missed you. Let's go pick up Jaimers & find a tattoo parlor.

6 Comments:

Blogger Sean said...

I don't LOOOOVE the DMV as much as you

10:00 AM

 
Blogger ica said...

are you getting a tattoo???

i just reread on the road earlier this year.

1:42 PM

 
Blogger emertron said...

Oh dear no. Jaimie is before she heads back to Scotland.

2:54 PM

 
Blogger J-Mo said...

I would thow all their clothes in the garbage if someone did that to me.

Yay DMV ha.

4:16 PM

 
Blogger screetus said...

Hmmm -- a bad day that improved because the DMV didn't treat you any worse than anyone else.
Hey, at least that's something!

11:20 PM

 
Anonymous Anonymous said...

yeah, im sick of the dmv california hassles too, so i checked this out dmv california

10:16 AM

 

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