In writing, thereās a saying: āEveryone has one book in them. Almost nobody has two.ā I donāt like this saying. In my opinion, itās mostly said by egotistical writers trying to marginalize those who donāt write or have a difficult time writing. But on the surface it appears true, but only because most people do get an idea for a story but theyāre not interested in storytelling or writing enough to develop more. So they stop there. One story.
Unless theyāve recently been to the DMV. Then most people have two, three, four, or even more. It just depends on how often youāve gone.
The Department of Motor Vehiclesāthe place of endless inspiration.
My license expired this year on my birthday, but it was during the pandemic closures and I had an extra ninety days to renew, so I waited for within a week or so of my ninety-day extension, then I huffed and puffed and sighed my way over to Woodstockās DMV.
Itās been a few weeks since my visit, and in that time, Iāve shared the story Iām about to tell you with numerous others and each time when I finish, my story is met with, āWell, get a load of this.ā Or some variant. But the point is everyone has a story or multiple stories to share about the DMV.
Hereās mine:
Going to the DMV during a time of social distancing, I didnāt know what to expect, but I didnāt think it could be much worse than under normal circumstances, and when I first got there, things seemed pretty good. Check-in was at a folding table on the sidewalk and only took about a minute to get through. I was handed some paperwork, and told, āThe line is right there.ā She pointed to a line I thought started at a crook in the outside of the building only fifteen feet away, but as I walked to the āendā of the line and noticed it continued, I saw it went to the end of the building…then around the side of the building…then to the end of the side of the building approximately five miles away from the front door of the DMV. I was going to be there until my license expires again in another five years.
I took my place and waited.
Hope was lifted a few minutes later when the line moved and I jumped about forty feet, thinking at this rate, weāll move fast. Then the line stopped moving. And didnāt move again for another fifteen minutes. Then we jumped another forty feet and stopped for about fifteen minutes. This stop and go was a result of social distancing and attendants only letting in a certain number of people at a time to keep capacity low.
It took me about an hour-and-a-half to get into the DMV.
Once inside, it went rather smooth, if you call speaking through layers of masks, Plexiglas, and face shields smooth. Itās not. You couldnāt hear a thing the clerks said. I havenāt received my new license yet, but Iām pretty sure Iām looking up and to the right and youāll be able to see the string from my mask in the picture because I couldnāt hear the clerkās instructions properly and she snapped the photo before I was fully ready.
It was clean, though. I mean really clean. There were two attendants ready with spray bottles, and every time someone left a window, the attendant was there, dousing the area in disinfectant. Except for the pens. The one thing everyone touched. That was left dangling off the edge of the counter after each use, forgotten. But the Plexiglas windows were spotless!
In total, the whole trip took me about two-and-a-half hours, door to door. And I was only snapped at by a clerk once. So, yeah, it was an inspiring morning.
