DMV

I don’t know why everyone always complains about the DMV.

I had the most fun visit there today.  It started in the waiting area, where half the people were wearing masks and the other half were not, but every single person in the room joined in the jovial conversation over the insanely ridiculous mixed messaging we've all been forced to endure whether we give credence to it or not.

“I haven’t consulted CNN yet this morning,” one hilarious elderly white-haired lady said from behind her mask.  “What’s the rule today? Are we allowed to wear them at half-mast if we’ve had our first dose of the vaccine?”

When it was my turn to renew my driver’s license, the girl behind the desk asked me questions while she entered my updated information into her computer.

“Still 150 pounds?” she asked innocently—just before we both erupted into giggles because yeah right.

“Something like that,” I replied.  “And as for my hair color, I always ask if you guys want the fake or the real. Because I’m a brunette, but I’m going to be bleaching it blonde until I die, so that would probably be the more accurate box to check.”

“Oh, we stopped caring,” she said.  “People were constantly haggling over real color or fake.  It doesn’t matter anymore.  Just give me the color your hair currently identifies as.”

“Works for me,” I said.  “Blonde.”

Each time anyone’s turn was successfully over, the people in the waiting room—who had become like family while we were waiting in line—would erupt into a cheer of congratulations. The person leaving would take a bow and shout, “Good luck to you all! Godspeed!” as he or she left to enjoy the rest of the day.

What a fun morning. 

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