At 10:15 AM yesterday morning I arrived at the Department of Motor Vehicles on Hollywood and Vine in Los Angeles. I had taken care of my registration and license on previous visits, and was only there yesterday to perform what I thought was the simple (and quick) task of "picking up my new plates." Turns out the task was as I had originally thought, quite simple. It was unfortunately about as far away from "quick" as one could ever imagine.
"I'm here to pick up my new license plates," I told a gruff looking woman sitting behind a gigantic sign labeled START HERE.
She looked over my paperwork. "Well you still have to wait in line," she remarked with disdain, as if she thought I was trying to infer differently. "Here is your number, please take a seat."
I glanced down at a slip of paper labeled #B163. "Excuse me," I said, "Could you let me know what the expected wait time is?"
She pointed up to a monitor that was flashing #B42. "Honey, she grinned at me, "your guess is as good as mine."
I looked out at the waiting area. It was filled with countless disgruntled DMV patrons, all of whom were wearing horribly pained expressions on their faces. I quickly calculated that B42 was 121 numbers away from B163 and immediately matched the pained expressions of my fellow DMV-goers with an equally, if not more, pained expression of my own. I sat down next to an old woman who was sleeping rather soundly. She was clutching in her liver-spotted hand a slip of paper bearing the number B61. In desperation, I briefly contemplated swapping her number with mine, but immediately abandoned the notion as I decided I'd rather avoid going STRAIGHT TO HELL.
Since I had wrongly assumed that my visit would be a quick one, I had neglected to bring with me a book or magazine with which to occupy my time. I did however bring my trusty journal, and kept a detailed account of my time at the DMV. I had to suffer through the experience, and now you do too.
10:30am (aka # B42): DMV is crowded, and the old woman sitting next to me smells very bad. Gross. Unfortunately, there are no other seats...Oh wait...There's one! Shit. Not fast enough. God she stinks.
10:45 am (aka #B63): Smelly woman has left. Good news too! It seems that the numbers are moving rather fast. I have hopes that I'll be out of here by noon...at the latest.
10:55 am (aka #B63): I was wrong about the fast moving thing. All but one of the DMV workers have gone on a break. Smelly woman has also returned. I think she forgot to fill something out. I just saw that she now has #B185. Ha. Sucker.
11:15 am (STILL MOTHERF*&KING #B63): What in god's name is #B63 STILL DOING AT THE COUNTER??? I hate B63. Hate him.
11:20 am (aka #B65): OK...he's gone, and some of the hard working employees have returned from their break. We are back in business.
11:27 am (aka #B73): I just witnessed a young child steal the pacifier out her baby sister's mouth, wipe it all over the dirty nasty DMV floor, and place the pacifier back into the baby's mouth. It was all over before I could wake the mother up to warn her what was happening. The mother is, incidentally, still asleep, and completely neglecting her young children.
12:15 pm (aka #B103): Finally some excitement to pass the time. In a scene right out of "America's Dumbest Criminals," a man with (what I deduced anyway) a warrant out for his arrest, just attempted to register his car under his real name. What an idiot. His name was apparently flagged, and the police were clandestinely alerted. The California Highway Patrol just chased him around the room for a bit before finally catching and arresting him. Hee Hee. The police looked funny running around like that.
Shit...I just realized it's after noon. I suppose being finished by noon was a lofty goal...1 pm. I'll definitely be out of here by 1 pm.
12:45 pm (aka #B124): I just got back from the restroom. Sort of like when you're at a restaurant and you go to the restroom, and then return to see that your food has arrived, I hoped that when returning from MY trip to the restroom the numbers would have miraculously advanced to somewhere a bit nearer to #B163. They did not. I did learn something very important as a result though: Never go to the bathroom at the Department of Motor Vehicles. Ever. It was so disgusting that I vow now to never speak of it again.
1:15 pm (aka #B143): There is a group of children conducting stroller races across the floor. Their parents seem to think that running over the toes of strangers is perfectly acceptable public behavior for young children. Actually, I am so bored at this point, that quite frankly I'm considering joining in. It slooks like they are having fun.
1:20 pm (aka #B149): Had to change seats. The frightening bearded man that was sitting next to me just wouldn't stop touching his leg to mine. I was sitting so close to the edge of my seat to avoid this that I fell out of my chair.
1: 45 pm (aka #B160): I just spent the past two minutes expressing my excitement about how close we were to #B163 to the stranger that was sitting next to me. After going on for quite some time, I asked her what number SHE had, and realized as a result of her response that she did not speak English, and quite likely did not understand a word that I was saying for the past several minutes. God I need to get out of here.
2:01 pm (aka #162): I'M NEXT. I'M NEXT. I'M....
2:15 pm (aka who the hell cares what number they are on): I'm sitting in my car preparing to drive back to the office. I'm going to try not to think about the fact that I just waited four hours to accomplish a procedure that took about four minutes. At least I succeeded in my task. I am now the proud owner of a shiny new set of California license plates. I am so excited to have them in my posession and be leaving the DMV, that one might think I just acquired something much more spectacular than two rectangular pieces of metal. Who cares...all that matters is that I am DONE.
Goodbye DMV...till next year anyway.
