real life drama at the dmv.

I've had to be at the tag office twice now, trying to get my old, totaled car's registration transferred over to my new, in-great-shape-until-somebody-else-doesn't-
pay-attention car's registration. I also attempted to visit the DMV to get my address updated. These governmental visits are important because have I mentioned how much I love waiting around in government agencies? I'm being quite serious here--there are, on any given day, a ginormous plethora of untold stories flying around government agency waiting rooms. In the course of a mere few days, I have many, many new story ideas flying around my head, so many, in fact, that I've invested in a small notebook for my purse to remember them all.

For example, yesterday at the tag office, I sat across from a white haired lady. She had a regular torso but these HUGE arms and legs. She looked like she could be 70 and someone who was never really into exercise...or she could be only 45, but with real bad luck at the gene pool. I watched her watching the other people with us, and I could totally see she was doing what *I* was doing, but in a much angrier, impatient kind of way. I am going to write a story about her getting her nails done in a Buddhist themed, Vietnamese nail salon, and all the judgmental thoughts she has about foreigners. Because that is what I imagined was going through her mind: "Why are there sooo many....FOREIGNERS...here??"


But diversity is good--I always feel better in a room that is filled with different languages, skin colors, and ways of being than I do in a room that is just One Kind of People. Nothing good has ever come out of a room filled with just one kind of people, is what I always say. Just look at what happened when the Nazis would get together. For example.

Here are more examples of why waiting rooms excite me. Over the last few days, I have witnessed:

*A Spanish speaker stopping in front of 5 different people sitting in the tag office registration area asking (a) if they spoke Spanish and (b) could they help him figure out how to "take a number"?

For the record: 3 out of the 5 did speak Spanish but only 1 out of the 3 knew the process to "take a number." (How to take a number goes like this: Read the screen. Choose A, B, or C. But know which A, B, or C fits your issue first. Press A, B, or C. Take the number. Sit down. Wait 40+ minutes. Even I find this process daunting, and I'm from here. It's the 3 options. They throw me every time.)

*A man--I'm assuming of a Middle Eastern background--yelled in scary sounding Middle Eastern language at someone on his cell phone. But first, his cell phone rang (and super loud, I might add) with that ancient-sounding Middle Eastern call to prayer type music. The lady with white hair rolled her eyes, but then laughed and said out loud: "My gracious!" to no one in particular. And yet. I will admit we were all relieved that his ring tone was signaling that he just needed to cuss someone out in Arabic over the phone, not that he needed to yank out a prayer rug and start praying. I actually like the whole kneeling and praying towards Mecca thing...I've always thought it looks very meditative and calming. But at your local tag registration office? Not so much.

*A 2 year old Latina girl had a major, hysterical melt down because her mom wouldn't let her open the EXIT door for people. Later, I watched that same mom leave that same girl completely unattended when the mom's number got called...at which time the 2 year old promptly went over to the EXIT door and began helping people EXIT, in ways only a 2 year old is good at. Which is to say that, basically, she blocked the door, trying to get it open while people in a hurry stood behind her, waiting for her to MOVE DAMMIT, while looking around with a WHERE THE HELL IS THIS KID'S MOM?? look on their face, until finally they just sighed loudly, gently pushed the kid aside, and opened the door themselves. THAT'S why you don't leave 2 year olds unattended, by doors.

Plus also, one of the exiters could have been a scary pedophile. Helloooo, moms who are totally going to be crying on the 5 o'clock news at some point.

*I got to listen in on a phone conversation about Deerick who is apparently entrenched in a quite unhealthy romantic liason with Janiqua. Deerick thinks Janiqua may be cheating on him with Jerome, and they've had a lot of fights about this, which usually end in Janiqua calling him really bad names I won't print here, but was astonished that he'd say them out loud in a public waiting room for everyone near him to hear. Yet he's confused about what to do because while he has no hard evidence Janiqua is cheating on him, a few months ago, Janiqua did catch him cheating with somebody who's name I didn't quite catch but it doesn't matter anyway because she ended up getting pregnant by somebody who is not Deerick and so she's nothing but a ho who is now out of the picture. Anyway, Deerick's point was that he needed his friend to help him decide where to take Janiqua for dinner last night so they could patch things up and be in love again. And also so Deerick could once again question Janiqua about her whereabouts 2 Friday nights ago, because one of his friends informed him Janiqua and Jerome were seen canoodling in the same club, and this could be a problem for Deerick and Janiqua's future. (sigh) Young love. I hope they make it work.

*At the DMV parking lot yesterday, I saw 2 people get into parking lot rage over one parking spot. Because it was literally the last one left. I actually gave up after witnessing this and went home, deciding to head back over first thing tomorrow when there would be less mental, angry people parking their cars and more empty spaces.

*Today, I went back to DMV and there were many more parking spaces available. I did realize (while standing in line for 30 minutes to get my number), that some people from other places that are not America simply do not have the same concept of MY Space vs. YOUR Space. And it bothers me. I discovered I have about 2 feet of space all around me and if I don't know you, STAY OUT. Because when you're in MY Space, your shirt sleeve keeps touching me, and I don't want your shirt sleeve touching me. Also, you're probably breathing on me, and I just got over a nasty summer cold--my immune systems are down until late October, yo.

*However, the Indian family that were dressed all alike (mom and dad in matching maroon shirts/black pants, cute baby girl in striped maroon shorts outfit) made me smile. Especially when they let her walk around the room--she waddled like a drunk little duck. Everyone else around me smiled at that, too.

*But I really did want to say something to the biker girl who walked around with her very large helmet propped up on her head. It made her look like that Marvin the Martian character, which may not actually be a smart thing to look like. At the DMV.


So you see? Government agencies! Filled with so many fascinating people...and I have so! little! time!