Department of Much Viciousness

I went to the DMV Monday. Those words really are all I need to say to describe my day and my mood on Monday. But since you are obviously bored to tears enough to come check out my long neglected blog I will elaborate a little more.

I thought if I went early, the lines might not be so bad. Here is where you are all saying, "If you would make an appointment, the lines are not so bad." I know, I know, but it was a last minute "oh JC is home, he can babysit" kind of decision. So I jumped in the car and headed to the DMV. My first indicator that I should just turn around and go home came when I turned onto "F" street and there was a traffic jam. The second indicator should have come when I realized the traffic jam was due to people waiting for parking places to open up...in the DMV parking lot. I finally made it into the lot, and like the heavens opened up and smiled down on me, a spot opened right in front of me. So what if it was the wrong way on a one way row, it was the end spot, I looked up the row and no one was coming. I could so make it! And I did and I was even parked straight after a few tries!

I grabbed my paperwork and headed to the front door, being careful not to get run down by a few really grumpy drivers. Geesh people! Don't you know road rage is the leading cause of parking lot homicide. Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed? Forget your coffee on the roof of your car? Does your pantie line show? Gotta run in your hose? Hair went flat. (Sorry I couldn't help myself.) The heavens are smiling, you should be too! Ouch, no wonder he is grumpy, he is missing his other four fingers! Well at least he waved, maybe he just looks grumpy. Wow! That's must be some angry rock music she's singing with! I am glad I can't read lips, because I am pretty sure some of the words she is saying would burn my eyes.

I opened the front door and a rush of warm air hit my face, carrying with it a nauseating combination of perfumes, colognes, body odor and flatulence. I waded through the mosh pit of people and made my way to window #2 to receive my number. The lady informs me the monitors are broken so be sure to listen for your number carefully. She hands me B150 as the voice on the speaker says, "Now serving B030" Fabulous, only 120 people ahead of me.

All the chairs were taken. People were stacked 7 and 8 deep, shoulder to shoulder, standing room only. I am sure the room was at least 3x the maximum fire capacity. The room was starting spin a little. I could feel the perspiration beading up on my chest. I wiggled my way through the mosh pit toward the front door. I don't do well in crowded areas, especially hot, smelly ones. I am very claustrophobic and very demo phobic. I burst through the door and out into the fresh air. I filled my lungs with fresh, clean air...ok we know that is a lie. I filled my lungs with good ol' B-town smog. It was a relief to be outside. Then a little ol' man and a small boy walked up to me. The man started jabbering to me. At first I thought I must be having a really serious panic attack, I couldn't understand a single thing he was saying. I knew he was talking to me, but it was not making any sense. Then the boy said, "My grandpa says the speakers out here are broken. You will miss your turn." Oh, ok, fewsh! I did not totally lose it, he was speaking Spanish.

I stood in front of the door. My heart raced, my forehead was damp. I said a quick "forgive me for crowding in the parking lot I am very sorry, it was not a nice thing to do and please get me through this" prayer and stepped through the door. Just as I walked through the door, a man left the chair right beside the door. I quickly planted myself in it. Then I thought, Is this a test? Am I suppose to give this chair up to someone who was here before me? Are you trying to see if I was REALLY sorry for crowding, because when you ask for forgiveness you are not suppose to repeat the action right? Or is this an answer to my "get me through this" prayer? How about if we meet in the middle. If a little ol' lady comes in I will give up my chair, ok? Or a momma with a baby, or someone on crutches, or a ready to pop momma.

After more than two hours, a moderate panic attack, and $800.00 later I left the DMV. But not before I made a comment to the clerk about spending my $800 on fixing the outdoor speakers and the monitors. I also might have mentioned that you cannot hardly tell whether the speaker is calling letter B,C, or G. And how I thought it was horse hockey that the people, specifically the two little old ladies, who could not understand or hear their numbers being called had to get new numbers and start all over again. And that when the monitor is broken they should call the number at least twice. Also that they were certainly beyond maximum capacity and that is a fire hazard. Thank you Margret, I am sure you passed on all my helpful suggestions to your boss, or not.

There were not even any key marks on my car, or profanities written in the dust or any kind of gross body fluids on my windows or door handles. I am sure that is because mankind has elevated itself above all that pettiness and has learned to forgive and love thy parking place stealing neighbor and had nothing at all to do with the po-po parked next to me enjoying his breakfast.