…Take a number…

You take a little ticket that looks outstandingly similar to a cattle-tag made from paper. Then, you look around for a place to sit. Hopefully you have choices because this is an extremely important decision—who knows how long you will have to wait? You definitely don’t want to get caught near some flatulent blubbery beast or a bawling baby. This decision must be made expediently or else the crowd will wonder what/why you are contemplating nervously–You don’t want this appearance in a public place constantly threatened by maniac bombers!

You make your choice and feel pretty good about it. To your left is an elderly person re-applying for a Driver’s License (his was taken away five years ago because of reckless old driving…the worst kind). To your right is a young couple sans baby. Speaking of babies, you are lucky enough that there isn’t a crying baby for at least 3 seats! You snuggle up in the black faux-leather chair and smile to yourself. But then it hits you; the long, deep, stare from the creepster across the DMV waiting area!

Where do you look? Right back at him? No, you can’t do that, he might think that is an invitation. So you stare at the ground; waiting. Since you have nothing to look at, you decided to listen…

You hear babies crying, people coughing, beeps of the metal detector at the entrance. You think, what is this place that is so dreary that I want to stick toothpicks in my toenails and kick a wall to fight the boredom?

“That’s the California DMV for ya…”

You look up to your left at the old man speaking and wonder if he just read your mind or you spoke your thoughts aloud but then he continues:

“always lettin’ short people go first. I’ve been watchin’ the numbers and I tell you it just ain’t fair. The smaller the person the faster they go through the numbers. Them and the Irish, you just watch. ”

“yep, I can’t stand it when that happens.” Why did you just say that? Sometimes you find yourself agreeing with outrageous ideas because you are just happy someone is talking to you.

“What? Are you serious?” Says the old man. “I was just sayin’ that as a joke…you luck pretty stupid now don’t you?”

How could you have just gotten burned by this old man. You consider fighting back. All you do is laugh.

“Nice comeback” He says.

You cry a little inside and vow never to return to the DMV in California again.

…(to be continued)…