Oh, did I say something inappropriate at the DMV?!
Last week was a big week for The Saturn. After nearly 2 years in San Diego, my car is finally registered as a legal citizen of California. Of course, this did require a trip to the infamous DMV. I challenge anyone to tell me that a trip to the DMV does not cause a plethora of emotions from anger, frustration, stress, incredulity, surprise, annoyance, and the list goes on and on and on.
My day at the DMV started with a large cup of coffee, which I then decided to ditch because I did not want to have to use the bathroom at the DMV. EWWW. So, I armed myself with a good book (Chelsea Handler's Chelsea Chelsea Bang Bang) and my i Phone, but I forgot my headphones at home, not good. I did not, however, arm myself with a can of Lysol like my friend Scott suggested...I kind of wish I had.
When I arrived at the DMV, chaos immediately ensued. There are no signs to tell you where to go, but there are about one million lines. Seriously. So, after asking several people "are you in line to take a number?", I finally found my line. Then I was told to get into another line, with my car. When you register your car here in Cali, someone has to inspect it and check the VIN to make sure it's not stolen. I was an especially suspicious type because I drive a Saturn, and if you live in San Diego and drive a Saturn you must be Mexican. Even though I do speak Spanish, I am not Mexican, but I love my Saturn nonetheless.
So The Saturn and I get in line and wait about 45 minutes. Ironically enough, the guy that did my SMOG check the day before was the person in line ahead of me. He had been waiting one hour. As the cars began to pile up behind us, someone came out and snarkily told the guy ahead of me that he was supposed to ring a doorbell to get someone to come out. Here is my problem with that: 1. the woman inside has been telling about 20 people to drive their cars up to the carport to have them inspected, so someone inside knows people are waiting; 2. there is no sign that we are supposed to ring a bell; and the biggest problem of them all 3. several employees walked by our line of cars, but because it was not "their job" to do the car inspections, they did not feel the need to tell us to ring the bell. Once my car was finally given the "all clear, not stolen" thumbs up, it was back inside to get a number. To get a number, I had to wait in line, again. I got my number: B64. The screen above my head read B30. Holy shit, more than 30 people are ahead of me?! This is going to be a long day. At this point, I start to panic that I might have to use the bathroom. In the DMV. EWWW.
I tend to try to look on the bright side of things, and my trip to the DMV was definitely challenging my ability to do that...until "Danny" sat down next to me. I put his name in quotes, but that was his real name. I doubt he is reading this blog, so there is no need to protect his identity in this story. Danny is from Kansas, he lost his license in a bar because he "was wasted" and he wants a fleur de lis tatoo on his leg. At this point I am smiling to myself and thinking "THANK GOD I LEFT MY HEADPHONES AT HOME!!!" Basically, Danny is a hot mess. He continues chatting with the guy next to him, while I pretend to be engrossed in my book. The conversation is going well until Danny says something about liking to be tied up with chains. "OMG, this is getting too good..." I say to myself. The guy next to Danny was obviously not thinking what I was thinking and there was complete silence. After about 30 seconds, Danny says "Oh, did I say something inappropriate at the DMV?". Other guy says "Um, yes" and gets up and walks away. And this is when I thought my entertainment was done for the day, but much to my delight it was not. Danny proceeded to talk to anyone that sat next to him (except for me, because I was really into my book!), so he provided me with much entertainment for the next 2.5 hours while I waited for them to call B64.
The moral of this story is: yes, the DMV is a complete disaster and the epitome of inefficient beaurocracy, but if you maintain a willingness to find the humor in a situation, it won't be that bad. Or, if someone named Danny sits down next to you, take out your headphones, put your book away, stop talking on the phone, cease and desist all texting, because you are in for one of the best eavesdropping opportunities of your life!
P.S. Oh yeah, and happy 60,000 miles Saturn. You are my one and only car, even though I only take you out once a month and never give you a bath. XOXO.
Note: The Saturn is a bit schizophrenic. It now has CA license plates, but it still has Philly city parking stickers, as well as Chicago city stickers.
My day at the DMV started with a large cup of coffee, which I then decided to ditch because I did not want to have to use the bathroom at the DMV. EWWW. So, I armed myself with a good book (Chelsea Handler's Chelsea Chelsea Bang Bang) and my i Phone, but I forgot my headphones at home, not good. I did not, however, arm myself with a can of Lysol like my friend Scott suggested...I kind of wish I had.
When I arrived at the DMV, chaos immediately ensued. There are no signs to tell you where to go, but there are about one million lines. Seriously. So, after asking several people "are you in line to take a number?", I finally found my line. Then I was told to get into another line, with my car. When you register your car here in Cali, someone has to inspect it and check the VIN to make sure it's not stolen. I was an especially suspicious type because I drive a Saturn, and if you live in San Diego and drive a Saturn you must be Mexican. Even though I do speak Spanish, I am not Mexican, but I love my Saturn nonetheless.
So The Saturn and I get in line and wait about 45 minutes. Ironically enough, the guy that did my SMOG check the day before was the person in line ahead of me. He had been waiting one hour. As the cars began to pile up behind us, someone came out and snarkily told the guy ahead of me that he was supposed to ring a doorbell to get someone to come out. Here is my problem with that: 1. the woman inside has been telling about 20 people to drive their cars up to the carport to have them inspected, so someone inside knows people are waiting; 2. there is no sign that we are supposed to ring a bell; and the biggest problem of them all 3. several employees walked by our line of cars, but because it was not "their job" to do the car inspections, they did not feel the need to tell us to ring the bell. Once my car was finally given the "all clear, not stolen" thumbs up, it was back inside to get a number. To get a number, I had to wait in line, again. I got my number: B64. The screen above my head read B30. Holy shit, more than 30 people are ahead of me?! This is going to be a long day. At this point, I start to panic that I might have to use the bathroom. In the DMV. EWWW.
I tend to try to look on the bright side of things, and my trip to the DMV was definitely challenging my ability to do that...until "Danny" sat down next to me. I put his name in quotes, but that was his real name. I doubt he is reading this blog, so there is no need to protect his identity in this story. Danny is from Kansas, he lost his license in a bar because he "was wasted" and he wants a fleur de lis tatoo on his leg. At this point I am smiling to myself and thinking "THANK GOD I LEFT MY HEADPHONES AT HOME!!!" Basically, Danny is a hot mess. He continues chatting with the guy next to him, while I pretend to be engrossed in my book. The conversation is going well until Danny says something about liking to be tied up with chains. "OMG, this is getting too good..." I say to myself. The guy next to Danny was obviously not thinking what I was thinking and there was complete silence. After about 30 seconds, Danny says "Oh, did I say something inappropriate at the DMV?". Other guy says "Um, yes" and gets up and walks away. And this is when I thought my entertainment was done for the day, but much to my delight it was not. Danny proceeded to talk to anyone that sat next to him (except for me, because I was really into my book!), so he provided me with much entertainment for the next 2.5 hours while I waited for them to call B64.
The moral of this story is: yes, the DMV is a complete disaster and the epitome of inefficient beaurocracy, but if you maintain a willingness to find the humor in a situation, it won't be that bad. Or, if someone named Danny sits down next to you, take out your headphones, put your book away, stop talking on the phone, cease and desist all texting, because you are in for one of the best eavesdropping opportunities of your life!
P.S. Oh yeah, and happy 60,000 miles Saturn. You are my one and only car, even though I only take you out once a month and never give you a bath. XOXO.
Note: The Saturn is a bit schizophrenic. It now has CA license plates, but it still has Philly city parking stickers, as well as Chicago city stickers.
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