As I entered the lovely White Plains Mall, I walked down the dirty corridor, passed some odd restaurant, an optical place and a Subway, I turned to my left and to my disbelief, the DMV was gone. License plates in hand, I called my boss and he told me they had moved it upstairs. I walked towards a young man wearing jeans who turned around and he had wings bedazzled on the back of his pants. Was he a frustrated bird? The Phoenix rising from the ashes? I don't think so, he looked more like a frustrated rapper. I passed a man having a loud conversation with no phone. This bothered me more when I realized he didn't have a bluetooth device either. I entered the DMV and was pleased to see there were only three people on line and about forty people sitting. I knew it would be quick. I approached the desk to get my ticket and was enamored by the young lady with nails longer than a samurai sword. She handed me the ticket and I walked towards the benches.
The first thing I noticed was that half the people in there had canes, walkers or some other mobility enhancer. I assume they were getting their handicapped stickers. The other thing I noticed was that every woman under the age of thirty was wearing skin tight pants and knee high hooker boots. All seemed to be a little full of themselves, although they probably knew the freaks at table five were all looking at them. I would like to think I was the normal one, but it's mid-November and I'm donning shorts and a tee shirt. Maybe I was the freak surrounded by the normal ones. It made me ponder.
I looked down at my ticket and read the number E395, immediately following this I heard a ding and then E394. This was great. I was next, in and out in two minutes. I sat and watch as a young boy played with a car. He was running around and at one point knocked a stack of papers out of some woman's hand. I chuckled. Then, as seems the usual when I'm there. A man in a suit, coming from the information desk, couldn't comprehend the ticket procedure and walked up to the first empty counter and handed the woman his papers. She told him he had to wait and he couldn't comprehend it. He walked out. Minutes went by and E394 had left. I waited, but still I was not called. This gave me the chance to gaze at all the toothless and unbathed. Of course the biggest freak, a woman (I think) was sitting behind me. Her emphysema filled lungs hissing and squealing like Ned Beatty on a weekend raft trip. I was getting nauseous. I could smell the smoke as it whistled out of her blackened lungs. I started to get queasy. Then it happened "Ding - E395." I raced to the counter to witness another set of plates still sitting there. Had she not processed E394? The woman smiled, I think it was a smile and told me to lay the plates on top and she asked for my ticket. Soon I would be out in the brisk cool open air. I couldn't wait.
And then it happened. Someone who was on one of their many breaks, came over and asked my woman a question. Obviously, the woman helping me did not have the ability to multi-task and she turned her shoulder and proceeded to explain something to the young questioning woman. Minutes went by and once again I grew anxious. I started to wonder if I put enough money in the meter. Finally, she turned to me and says "can you spell the name of the company that the vehicle was owned by?" I got through three letters when she raised her flabby arm and said "stop." I wanted to continue with "in the name of love," but I felt she'd either find no humor in it or accuse me of being racist. She reached in to an unkempt file cabinet and pulled out a paper, hit a button and printed out the form. Seconds later I'm walking to the door and who is in front of me. The woman whose lungs sound like lobsters in a boiling pot. I exited DMV and skipped down the stairs. My haste almost caused my shorts to fall down. I sprinted out the door and over to my car. I looked at the meter - 2 minutes. I got into my car, opened the window and breathed the fresh cool air. The DMV tried to break me. Surround me with freaks and women in slutty boots, but I prevailed. At least for today.
The first thing I noticed was that half the people in there had canes, walkers or some other mobility enhancer. I assume they were getting their handicapped stickers. The other thing I noticed was that every woman under the age of thirty was wearing skin tight pants and knee high hooker boots. All seemed to be a little full of themselves, although they probably knew the freaks at table five were all looking at them. I would like to think I was the normal one, but it's mid-November and I'm donning shorts and a tee shirt. Maybe I was the freak surrounded by the normal ones. It made me ponder.
I looked down at my ticket and read the number E395, immediately following this I heard a ding and then E394. This was great. I was next, in and out in two minutes. I sat and watch as a young boy played with a car. He was running around and at one point knocked a stack of papers out of some woman's hand. I chuckled. Then, as seems the usual when I'm there. A man in a suit, coming from the information desk, couldn't comprehend the ticket procedure and walked up to the first empty counter and handed the woman his papers. She told him he had to wait and he couldn't comprehend it. He walked out. Minutes went by and E394 had left. I waited, but still I was not called. This gave me the chance to gaze at all the toothless and unbathed. Of course the biggest freak, a woman (I think) was sitting behind me. Her emphysema filled lungs hissing and squealing like Ned Beatty on a weekend raft trip. I was getting nauseous. I could smell the smoke as it whistled out of her blackened lungs. I started to get queasy. Then it happened "Ding - E395." I raced to the counter to witness another set of plates still sitting there. Had she not processed E394? The woman smiled, I think it was a smile and told me to lay the plates on top and she asked for my ticket. Soon I would be out in the brisk cool open air. I couldn't wait.
And then it happened. Someone who was on one of their many breaks, came over and asked my woman a question. Obviously, the woman helping me did not have the ability to multi-task and she turned her shoulder and proceeded to explain something to the young questioning woman. Minutes went by and once again I grew anxious. I started to wonder if I put enough money in the meter. Finally, she turned to me and says "can you spell the name of the company that the vehicle was owned by?" I got through three letters when she raised her flabby arm and said "stop." I wanted to continue with "in the name of love," but I felt she'd either find no humor in it or accuse me of being racist. She reached in to an unkempt file cabinet and pulled out a paper, hit a button and printed out the form. Seconds later I'm walking to the door and who is in front of me. The woman whose lungs sound like lobsters in a boiling pot. I exited DMV and skipped down the stairs. My haste almost caused my shorts to fall down. I sprinted out the door and over to my car. I looked at the meter - 2 minutes. I got into my car, opened the window and breathed the fresh cool air. The DMV tried to break me. Surround me with freaks and women in slutty boots, but I prevailed. At least for today.
I thoroughly enjoyed reading this, and have a few comments.
ReplyDelete1. First and foremost, stop talking shit about slutty boots.
2. One of my bosses at Purchase and I skipped out of work early to go to that DMV to take our motorcycle permit test. If I ever get desperate enough, this is something I will do again to get myself a man.
3. The last time I was there, my stay was not so short and when my number was finally called, I definitely did the happy dance that one can only properly execute when their number is called at the DMV, or when it's your turn at the post office. I reached the counter with my ID out, the papers I needed, and ready to take my eye exam. Mid conversation, no lie, the receptionist fell asleep.
4. There's a Chinese Body Work massage place directly next door to the right of the DMV. Next time, put an extra quarter in your meter and check it out!