Waiting, and Watching at the DMV
I could have mailed in my drivers license renewal application, but I am going to France in a few months and I want to make sure that my passport and the drivers license picture sorta match. Don’t want to upset that apple cart!
The DDS (Department of Driver Services) parking lot was full; this was going to be a long wait.
The directions at the door told me to stand behind a sign and wait. I comply. Soon a very happy DDS clerk gives me an application and a number, A080, and tells me to go sit in the waiting room until my number comes up. Sounded kinda terminal to me.
THE WAITING ROOM was a large concrete block room painted yellow, containing rows of harvest gold melamine chairs bolted together, plenty of unhappy looking folks, and a table with a big box full of clipboards and a jar of pens.
The other entertainment besides the kids getting their learners permits and first license is a screen and a loud speaker.
Every few minutes a pleasant woman’s voice will say over the loud speaker something like “now serving F392” and the board will change.
F392 looked awfully familiar. I think he was riding the motorcycle that did a one wheel stand as he passed me the other day on 212.
Then, there is the man with two boys, one boy is on the verge of manhood, getting his license for the first time. Daddy looks real nervous.
I suddenly remembered when I took my first driver’s license test, one question was “what arm signal do you use to show you are turning left?” Try that arm signal now and see what happens.
Finally A080 is announced. Now I have to give them compliments on my new picture, it is fuzzy enough that it does match my passport picture.
He assured me that the bar code on the back of my license told them everything. Yea, now I am like a jar of pickles at the grocery store, just swipe my barcode. That’s a relief.
As I was leaving with my new temporary fuzzy-pictured drivers license in hand, I saw the new teenage driver jumping up and down next to a truck as daddy hands him the keys to drive them home.
Daddy has a few streaks of gray hair in his temples, that is about to change, my friend.