My Trip to the DMV

I've decided that DMV should stand for the Department of the Mentally Vacant. There is something about the place that just sucks the brain power out of anyone who steps foot into the building. Perhaps they pump something into the air. Or maybe it's a trance induced by the fluorescent lights, mind-numbing lines that wrap around and lead to nowhere, combined with the continuous ping of the loudspeaker. "Now serving A16 at window number 4." I saw one poor employee involuntarily shudder every time the mechanical voice called a new number.

I walked in and was directed to the 15 person deep line just to get your number or check in for your appointment. Thank God I had an appointment . . . and that I came 20 minuets early. It took that long just to check in. When it was finally my turn in that first line I told the woman my appointment number and asked, "Can I please have the application to register your car?" She starts searching frantically through stacks of papers saying, "Um, Um..." She announces she has to go to the back to hunt one up. Funny, I thought those would be frequently requested items. She's the only person manning the line so when she disappears to the back the line starts snaking out the door and I start receiving whispered death threats. Eventually she reemerges with a pamphlet on HOW to register your car. "No," I sigh "I don't need that, I just need the application." She huffs at me and reaches into a cubby in the front of her desk to retrieve the easily accessible document. The line behind me moans and grumbles.

In the end, I wasn't able to register the car because I am not my husband, and our GA registration is in his name alone. The man processing my long awaited application, holding my GA driver license in his hand says, "What's your name?"

"Um...Rebecca Winge..." I start to answer.

"Where's Jacob?"

"He's out to s... on business."

"Sorry ma'am, he'll need to register HIS car."

sigh... not worth the argument.

I didn't consider all was lost at that point yet. I was still determined to get my California drivers license. The lines weren’t so bad in this department. It only took 45 minuets to get my picture taken. You'd think I'd be home free at that point, but no. After being a licensed driver for 11 years (albeit not the BEST driver) California wasn't satisfied that I could be trusted to obey THEIR traffic laws. I had to take a multiple choice test. Thirty-six questions. I failed. Failed miserably! I missed twelve! Grrr. Some of the questions I answered incorrectly I am willing to calk up to the mind-sapping environment of the DMV previously discussed. I just went brain dead. But others...What the f#@$%! For example:

A pedestrian who is blind or visually impaired uses traffic sounds before deciding to cross the street. If you see a pedestrian with a guide dog or a white cane waiting to cross to a corner, you should...

A. Stop at the cross walk and honk your horn

B. Drive in to the cross walk so the person can hear your engine

C. Pull up to the cross walk so the person can hear your engine

You tell me. Any way, I guess I should be thankful at least Jacob wasn't with me. He probably would have passed the freaking test on the first try and I would have been livid.