Cut With Vodka

So Preston and I spent last Friday morning at the Norristown DMV. And y'all, this DMV makes the Richmond DMV look like NASA. First of all, the whole building is smaller than my apartment. In fact, it's probably about half the size of our apartment. And we have a nice sized apartment, but still. It's AN APARTMENT. And the waiting room (and by room I mean un air-conditioned hallway) is so small there's not enough room to fart in it. But that didn't stop someone, apparently.

On Tuesday, after our first try at the DMV failed, I told Preston that I wanted to be there at 8:00 so that when it opened at 8:30 we would be brand spanking FIRST in line. He looked at me like WHO ARE YOU CRAZY WOMAN but he likes to keep me around so he has someone to laugh at, so he said ok. So this morning at 8:03, after waking Preston up (who looked at me like I was now on his short list of people to murder), packing snacks, 35 different forms of identification/proof of residency, and books/iPods to keep us amused, we were on the road. We climbed into the car, headed away from warm and fuzzy Bryn Mawr, and 20 minutes later, arrived in Norristown and got at the back of a one hour line.

After about 20 minutes, Preston started squinting towards a sign inside the building (we were very much still outside), and asked me, with more than a note of panic in his voice, "Do you have a check with you?" Within a millisecond I knew my answer, but I delayed, nevertheless, fumbling for words (among them were, "I don't know. I don't think so. I must have taken my checks out. I didn't think I'd use them. They don't take cash?"). But what I really thought was NO I haven't written a check in fifteen months and they take up valuable room in my purse, so I just stopped carrying them. Plus, WHO doesn't take CASH? And how are checks safer than cash for PennDOT to receive? People write bad checks all the time, but I really don't think that THAT many people are printing counterfeit money in their basement. But then again, we were in Norristown. So WHO KNOWS.

Anyways, since PennDOT only takes checks and money orders, and banks weren't yet open, we had to go to the nearest RiteAid to get a money order (after I had called my mother in a panic and asked her what a money order WAS...I'm still not sure. All I know is that she said you can get them at 7-11 and that makes me wonder: how can a piece of paper printed off two feet away from Big Bite Hot Dogs and Watermelon Slurpees realllllly be safer than cash?). So I ran into RiteAid, paid for my money order, and we scurried back to the DMV, hoping that we'd still have a decent place in line.

But apparently a small army of people had arrived in the elapsed thirty minutes, so we were delayed by an extra hour. This first line (first, you say? OH YES there was more than one line) really wasn't so bad--Preston listened to audiobooks on his iPod and I drooled over the perfect pages of Real Simple. Eventually, we made it to the front of the line. And did a little dance. Within five minutes the very nice man had xeroxed my application, Passport, Social Security card, old drivers license, and marriage license. It was so speedy! And easy! And then he punched a little hole in my Virginia license. And my soul bled a little bit. And then it bled even more when he told me that I had to go wait in another line to go get my picture taken, sign my name, and pick up my actual license.

So we trudged back into the "waiting room" and got in the photo line, running parallel to the other line, where there were two very bleached blonde, unshowered, braless (and they were not teensy little women who can get away with going braless...OH NO...) women sharing swigs of pink lemonade from a half gallon jug (and I would hazard a guess that it was cut with vodka). They were NOT happy to be waiting in the longest line in the history of the world. And they were loud and proud and NOT afraid to show it. Or use the f word repeatedly.

In between swigs of pink lemonade from their half gallon jug, they complained loudly enough FOR THE WORLD TO HEAR about how they were going to write letters of complaint to the DMV. And then meet some of their friends at Spanky's for drinks. And get WASTED. They were delighted to advertise this to the three hundred people waiting at the DMV on Friday morning. There was just no filter for these ladies.

And maybe it's because I'm snobbish or private or shy, or because the lemon mint water I had in my Nalgene wasn't cut with vodka, but aren't there some things you should keep to yourself? It strikes me that this hypothetical question is a wee bit hypocritical, given that I gladly offer up my unfiltered thoughts for the internet to read on a daily basis. But somehow that seems a better venue than the Norristown DMV on a Friday morning in August. Then again, ANYTHING seems a better venue than the Norristown DMV on a Friday morning in August.

Anyways, after about half an hour of pretending to read Emma (yes I know. I read Jane Austen while carrying my Vera Bradley, wearing my pearls and Eliza B sandals, and drinking lemon mint water from my Bryn Mawr College Nalgene. Also, Preston and I speak to each other only in Latin*) while really being completely distracted by these two women, I got to go have my picture taken (which was of course hideous), register to vote (Democratically! Making my very conservative Southern grandmother very, very sad), confirm my address, and TAKE my newly printed Pennsylvania license! Hooray! May we never have to return to the Norristown DMV.

*We don't actually speak to each other in Latin. We may be over-educated white yuppies, but we do have to draw the line somewhere.