DMV-A

I went to the VA-DMV this morning at around 7:20. Because I never knew that MD has two part titling (a red and a blue sheet), I will have to go back at least one more time. And really, if the experience was anything like this morning's, I won't mind one bit.

Here's my dirty little secret: If you are the first one in line, then the DMV is a pleasureable experience. Yes, I have uttered sheer heresy, and should be flayed to the bone for my filthy statements. But hear me out. (Side note: Yes, some of you have closed your eyes and flailed about wildly with your cursor in an attempt to escape this page, thus depriving me of my say. Well, D___ you.) Figure that my wait time from entry to counter was two minutes. However, note that it was scary that it took them two minutes to call my number. Since it's early in the morning, they have yet to be yelled at. They're still in a (relatively) good mood. Get in, get out, get bent. Wait, wrong audience, that was intended for Tha Haterz.

It turned out that the DMV is located very near L.M., almost close enough to walk if the weather weren't so ear-chilling frigid. When I first arrived, the only cars present were the ones in the back nearest the Employees Only entrance, so I drove away to grab a bagel and return. At that point, two cars were waiting. In their cars? They're not in line. Again, I fail at game theory, get out of the toasty car, and sit myself down next to the glass doors.

My bagel had a large square of cream cheese, as opposed to the normal daub smeared on. It could easily have been carved from a block, or it was a prepackaged slice of cream cheese, made just to slam onto a bagel. Most infuriating, for no good reason. Well, the cream cheese spreading wasn't even, and I suppose that was the biggest issue. Still, I shall not be refrequenting that delicatessenary establishmentation.

The bricks I was sitting on were leeching heat from my ass. (Side note: To be more accurate, the heat energy from my ass was going towards an area of less energy, namely, the bricks. Still, this ascribes a human quality to energy I'd rather not give it, when I can easily humanize bricks.) I wondered at what point there would be equalization, and it would no longer be cold. In retrospect, this is like hoping to hit terminal velocity when you've leapt from a plane, in order to avoid the sensation of falling.

This whole time, I am within eyesight of the blue car, which I did not look into. I cannot help but wonder if the driver thinks me an idiot for waiting out here, in the cold, with no one else in line. At around 7:45, the driver comes out and sits down next to me. We strike up a conversation, because there is nothing else to do aisde from stare at our breaths crystallizing in the winter swirl.

At one point, the snow flakes start teasing from the heavens. What. The. Hell.

It turns out C. is from Indiana, a new transplant to Virginia, and works with cars (parts). She is mad that she got placed in parts solely because she is a woman in a man's workspace, and I sympathize. She also notes that she makes the same money in parts as she would being a technician, so is amenable to keeping her current position. She expresses no surprise at my profession, and I decide to avoid the whole "I'm a lawyer and before you say anything screw you for asking me about it" line of thought.

The line starts to snake outward as singles start lining up behind me. Here is a man in a suit with a newspaper and glasses. There is a woman in a power suit and tennis shoes reading a Janet Evanovich hardback. Never heard of her, but judging from the large font on the title, and the all-pink book cover, as well as the power suit/tennis shoe combo, I have to assume it's chick lit. Everywhere we are cold and shivering. Aside from me and C., few words are exchanged. There is business to be done. Let us in to do it.