Yesterday it became clear that I was going to need to register one of the company vehicles that had been non-operational. And they needed it yesterday.
You know what that means, don't you?
A trip to the DMV
Without an appointment!!!!!
(Insert scary music here)
So this morning, in my stupidity, I decided to dress nicely and wear heels. Big Mistake
Because, as it turns out I spent the first hour of my captivity at the DMV office outside waiting in line. In the COLD and the WIND.
Eventually I made it inside. What is it about that place? It reminds me of what I would imagine the port on the River Styx to look like-- sad, worn out, disoriented people shuffling along. Hesitant. Watching their surroundings. Scouting out the rare chair to sit in and rushing to grab it when one is vacated. There is a prevailing sense of hopelessness in the air as if you are not sure you can wait it out until your number is called. What if you were to start screaming and pulling out your hair, you wonder. What if someone defies the security personnel and refuses to follow directions? Will a riot ensue? Anarchy? Dogs and cats living together?
I have a number in the 'B' series. I guess Mr/Ms 'B' went to lunch while I was there because nary a 'B' number was called for 45 minutes. This became a big source of speculation amongst my fellow inmates. This was about the time we began to bond. My seat mate had just been released from prison the day before. He was clearly prepared for the wait because he had a backpack full of candy and food and WHO KNOWS WHAT ELSE WAS IN THERE! We spent quite a bit of time comparing tattoos. I felt pretty much like the oldest white woman in the world because I had nothing to add to the conversation. The other people all had tats. He vividly described some of the more creative prison tats his prison friends had given one another. All I have to say: Yikes.
Finally, over 4 hours into my ordeal, my number was called. This was met with applause from my little cell of fellow DMVers and well wishes that I would be able to accomplish my tasks. 20 minutes later I was on my way. The people waiting at the outside of the DMV are pretty much just as stressed-- but they can smoke. And they do. If the wind hadn't been blowing I am pretty sure the office would have been smogged in. I pass those people who obviously are in awe and envy of my escape and cross the parking lot. The parking lot is also a source of stress and tension. A car pulls out. Another call signals to pull in. A jerk in a truck slams into her spot. She honks. And she yells. And she HONKSHONKSHONKS and she gets out, runs over to the guy and throws a full soda (with ice) in his face. They are yelling and gesturing at each other as I get in my car, say a prayer of thanksgiving and get the heck out of there.