In writing, thereâs a saying: âEveryone has one book in them. Almost nobody has two.â I donât like this saying. In my opinion, itâs mostly said by egotistical writers trying to marginalize those who donât 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 theyâre not interested in storytelling or writing enough to develop more. So they stop there. One story.
Unless theyâve recently been to the DMV. Then most people have two, three, four, or even more. It just depends on how often youâve gone.
The Department of Motor Vehiclesâthe 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 Woodstockâs DMV.
Itâs been a few weeks since my visit, and in that time, Iâve shared the story Iâm about to tell you with numerous others and each time when I finish, my story is met with, âWell, get a load of this.â Or some variant. But the point is everyone has a story or multiple stories to share about the DMV.
Hereâs mine:
Going to the DMV during a time of social distancing, I didnât know what to expect, but I didnât 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, âThe line is right there.â 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 âendâ 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, weâll move fast. Then the line stopped moving. And didnât 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. Itâs not. You couldnât hear a thing the clerks said. I havenât received my new license yet, but Iâm pretty sure Iâm looking up and to the right and youâll be able to see the string from my mask in the picture because I couldnât hear the clerkâs 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.
