Don't Make Me Go Back

I want to preface this by saying that Southern California was witnessed yet another tragedy yesterday - another postal shooting. It is a true tragedy and I recognize this completely. But I had an experience today that made me think: "Why are there never any DMV shootings?" Because if there is a place that is going to send someone crazy it's that joint.

I went to the DMV for the first time in years today. Because of the internet, I haven't had to enter a dmv since registering in California in 2000. Unfortunately, to get an ID card, you have to physically be present - AND get another picture (which I wasn't expecting - that should be a hot one). Like a good little girl, I made an "appointment" online two weeks ago so that I didn't, according to the website, "have to wait in line". Uh huh. My "appointment" was for 10:30 - a time where most people are at work - or so I thought.

As I pulled up to the dmv, which is only about a half mile from my work, I noticed a line of cars waiting for parking, which immediately sends my nostrils into flare-up mode. Come on people - don't wait for the closest spot. Keep moving until you find a spot and WALK. The 8 calories you will burn will not kill you. Well, there were no spots. Ironic. You're at the DEPARTMENT OF MOTOR VEHICLES and there's no parking. After 10 minutes I landed a spot. Blood pressure check - medium to high.

There were two entrances to the building. One had an open door. I saw what looked like a classroom with people seating for rows and rows all facing one direction. "That must be the room where you take your driving test." WRONG. That's the place that you sit if you want to do ANYTHING at the DMV. You sit there. And you wait. And you stare wide-eyed at the monitor in the center of this abyss to announce your letter and number combination. I was F042.

As I sat there, looking around, I realized that only at the DMV is everyone on a level playing field. It doesn't matter if you're a crack addict or the Dali Lhama. If you want something from the DMV, your ass is going to wait. No special treatment for anyone and it creates an environment that is not only a thing of interest but also a thing that reality TV was invented for!

I sat between a not-so-small woman in hot pink spandex carrying a Cabbage Patch Kid and a business man having a very obvious extra-marital affair. (People have a tendency to forget that when they speak on their cell phones, others can hear.) I squirmed in my chair for what felt like a lifetime (25 minutes - my wait was short - I had an "appointment") trying to avoid the blank stare of the creepy Cabbage Patch Kid carried by a grown woman and the pig in a suit.

Finally the monitor released me from my own personal hell and allowed me literally run to Window 22 where I was photographed and fingerprinted and forced to actually pay them for the experience.

I ran for my life out the door hoping to never see the inside of a dmv again.

Beyond a reality tv show, it could also be a great new torture tactic for captured spies or war criminals. Please don't ever make me go back.