Fun with Bud at the DMV

Somewhere between the arcade at the movie theatre Saturday night and home the next morning, my wallet disappeared.

I wasn't go to lose my mind over it. It's nothing that couldn't be replaced, except for ten bucks in cash, which kind of irritated me because I almost never carry cash with me, except for when, you know, my wallet makes a run for it....ERRRGH!

With credit cards cancelled and replacements on the way, I knew there was one thing left on my to-do list. Go to the DMV.

The DMV. It's what I imagine the receptionist office in Hell must be like. I don't know whether it's the tension in the air caused by lack of Muzak playing, or the buzzing of fluorescent lights. Maybe it's how you look under those lights, it makes even the healthiest of human beings look
as though their circulation has been cut off and they're awaiting their own autopsy results.

When I walked in, there were only two other people there. Their numbers were called up within minutes of each other. I was number 53, and I was next. Then, two more people walked in, and then another one, and another, and another, and ANOTHER.

It's okay...I'm still next....It's just getting busy. It's just more people...Just a bigger audience to watch me get my license mug-shot taken.

Then this old guy came and sat two seats away from me. Peee Uw, what did that guy eat? Maybe he was gnawing on one of those foot-long, shrink-wrapped, salamis you see hanging by a gas station register...smells like giant rotting garlic bulb...oh, I don't think I can take it anymore! Breath through your mouth...ew, I think I tasted it.

We were running out of seats and then this skater guy came in and sat next to me. Right NEXT to me. Not that he had much choice, but now my "Sit at least three chair lengths away from the next stranger" rights were being infringed upon. I like my personal space, I take pride on how far away I sit from people.

Miss Fancy Coat & High Heeled Boots came in and got a number....and then she sat right next to me. What, am I that likeable? There were other seats, you know.

Then the old lady with a walker and her middleaged daughter made their way in. Someone else moved to sit right next to another unfortunate soul so that the two of them could sit together. I could tell that Walker Woman wasn't really put out by the whole ordeal of going to the DMV. She probably pretended that it was a nuisance, but secretly loved getting out of the house to be just about anywhere.

I was squished. I was antsy. What the hell is taking them so long?!! Call number fifty-three! FIVE, THREE! SAY IT!!!

I stared at the crooked posters on the wall. "Don't Drink and Drive", "Become an Organ Donor, TODAY!". There were some homemade posters that the DMV employees put together, like the one by the number-ticket-machine written in marker that read, "Take A NUMBER!!!! HERE---->". There was another one taped up by the counter that was done in a computer font that started out real big and then got really tiny at the end. It said, "DON'T WASTE TIME!!!!! HAVE ALL DOCUMENTS READY!!!!" I noticed that one when I overheard the Walker ask her daughter, "Have documents....dear, what does that say there? Oh...it's my eyes. It looks so small to me...I can't make that last word out."

There was another poster on the wall with a bunch orange and white striped construction barrels lined up on the road. They all had these creepy looking cartoon man-faces drawn on them. It said "Make BUD happy, GO SLOW!" Huh? Who's Bud? The barrel? Is the barrel, Bud?

Miss Fancy Coat's counterpart walked in with hips swinging. I heard a cartoon whistle in my head, because I saw GarlicFunk Man sit up in his seat. Fancy Coat 2.0 sat next to him. Now the Funk had two lucky ladies on either side of him. I didn't mind, better them than me, their fluffy coats were containing his smell.

Oh, God, PLEASE...Get me out of here? Oh, she's gonna call a number! "Number Fifty-two? FIFTY-TWO!" No! That can't be.... But I didn't panic long because nobody claimed it. "Number FIFTY-THREE?" I shot up and ran to the desk.