DMV Thoughts
Is this hell? Am I in hell? It is too crowded. There are only 6 counters open out of 20. I have been waiting here an hour and a half for my number to be called. This is supposed to be normal pace? Kill me? Somebody please kill me.
The DMV in South Carolina was trashy but it ran a lot more smoothly. It stank in there, the workers were rude, and somebody peed on the floor next to me while I took my permit test. It was still better than this.
This elderly man is drawing everyone's attention, or at least, he's trying to. He keeps shaking his cup of ice and saying "this is so good!" He's been groaning and moaning with every movement since he walked in the door. A step. Mmmm. A step. Unhhh. Adjusting in his chair. Ahhh. Is that just what you do when you're that old? Somebody kill me before I get like that.
No no - now he's talking to himself. "Bingo number 5" "haven't smoked in 3 days" Someone tells a counter lady that she comes from South Carolina. "I've never been to South Carolina" the old man says loud enough to be heard, like he's involved in the conversation. I am very annoyed, but I tell myself that he's just a little senile.
Now he's asking a pretty man for a cigarette. "I'll give you a dollar just for one."
"I don't smoke"
"I haven't smoked in 3 days, can you believe that?"
"That's good man, that's good."
The old man gets up and loudly asks if ANYBODY has a cigarette. Just one. "I'll pay for it" He wanders around and keeps asking. Okay, the guy is just jonesing for a smoke. I think somebody helped him out. I don't hear his moaning anymore.
I have to make the bus home. I didn't realize it would take so fucking long. I'm hungry. I did my makeup and my hair for my ID photo, and I don't care anymore. I'd be fine with the worst picture in the world if it would get me out of here faster.
The line to the front desk is winding around the waiting chairs. So many people. Newlyweds, immigrants, teenagers, elderly folk, and men with tattoos on their face. There's a few parents with kids, and an off-duty cop who looks clearly like a cop even if he didn't have the logo on his T-shirt. Bald head, beer gut. He's got sunglasses on top of his head, and another pair hanging on the collar of his shirt. Why does he have extra sunglasses?
It's been an hour and a half now. I would sacrifice myself to the administrative gods, just to make this go faster. I want to commit seppuku here, in front of everyone. It would be dramatic enough to satisfy me. A puddle of red on these white linoleum floors.
They're calling numbers that are past mine. People who got here later than I did are being seen sooner. I made an appointment. I thought I'd get out earlier. I want to get in line and ask how far out I am. But the line is going out the door at this point. My bus is in an hour. I don't think Ill have time to eat.
My shoulders hurt. Is it from sitting so long? How does that work?
It has been 2 hours. Kill me.
I'm losing my fucking mind.
Alright, I'm in the line. Are they gonna give a fuck that I gotta get to my bus in 30 minutes? Probably not. Maybe I should just give up so I can get home.
"Now serving ____ at Counter ____" "Now serving ____ at Counter ____" "Now serving ____ at Counter ____" "Now serving ____ at Counter ____" "Now serving ____ at Counter ____"
Every counter has a security camera above it. 20 cameras in a line. It looks excessive, and they're all monitoring the workers. Has there been problems with the workers? Do they have a tendency to mishandle documents? Or steal information?
Who fucking knows. Maybe there's too many requirements to work at the DMV, and that's why they don't have enough workers. I guess you do have to have a spic-and-span record to be handling people's social security numbers.
I'm almost at the front of the line. I'm going to ask the man clearly: "my number is ____. I have been waiting 2 hours. Will I be called in the next few minutes?" If not I will cancel my appointment. Fuck this shit to the moon and back.
I cancelled it. The man apologized and gave me a note, so I can be seen immediately the next time I come in.
I cried on the way out. I hit myself a little. I hyperventilated on the way to the bus stop and I didn't give a fuck what people staring at me thought.
I went to the pretzel shop in the mall. It's the same chain store as the one back home. I got something called a pepperoni pretzel, and a frozen mango drink. The pretzel tastes like shit. After I ate a little, I dropped some of my THC tincture under my tongue. Thank God I brought it. This will keep the demons at bay, for now.
I just wasted 5 hours of my life, if I include the bus rides to get here and back. At least I wrote this. At least something comes out of frustration. If anything else happens today, I will fucking snap.
The bus didn’t stop. It didn't fucking stop. It just flew by. I'm done.
I called around the transit lines. That bus ain’t coming back here, so I gotta take 2 more to get on the route I need. I have one hour to make it happen.
One hour.
I’m going back.
I got my fucking ID. Fucking yay.
I hate my picture. I look greasy. My eyes are puffy from crying. I hate it. But it’s done. My new name is official. I hated my first ID picture (the one taken after someone peed next to me), and now it’s just a silly memory. I’ll look back and like this one too.
I really wish I had washed my hair today. God, it looks gross.
Okay, I do look kinda cute. Pleasant, at least.