Hell on Earth

I've been putting it off.

Going to the MVD that is.

See, that fun little class I took that helped me accomplish my before thirty goal of getting my motorcycle license was almost all inclusive. It provided the classroom teaching, the classroom test, the motorcycle to ride, the training on how to ride said motorcycle and the actual riding test. What it did not include was actually putting the motorcycle endorsement on your license.

That requires actually going to the MVD.

As excited as I was about getting my motorcycle license... I still waited almost two months before going to the MVD. I hate that place that much.

But I decided that Monday I was going to screw my courage to the sticking place and go. I'm still on a night schedule thanks to work, so I took a nice little nap around eleven pm on Sunday night, woke up around two am on Monday and planned on staying up until after I finished with my errand. Around seven am I did my bi-monthly shopping trip, came home and cleaned. Took a shower. Took the dog for a walk.
And ran out of reasons to avoid the heinous and always evil MVD.

MVD opens at eight am. I decided to drive an extra thirty minutes and go to the one that I always went to in high school. I'm not sure why, it's not any newer or cleaner then the one in my city. But I knew that MVD and familiarity seemed like a much needed bonus.

Showing up at nine was a terrible idea. I should have been waiting in line at six am. I knew I was in for a wait, so I brought provisions. A 600 hundred page book (hopefully it would be long enough, a snack, water, ipod complete with games, music and two episodes of Rescue Me. What I forgot? A personal bubble with an electric perimeter.

Besides the hoards of people the first thing I noticed was the distinct lack of pretty people. If someone wasn't white trash they were obese. If they had clothes that matched then it was styled from the eighties. I saw green knee socks paired with blue shirts on 55 year old men with no teeth. I saw chest hair and gold chains. On Women. The one thing everyone had in common? A lack of shower or bath in years. years.

Now, something you should know about me. I have these weird little quirks about me. Like, I'm not much of a toucher. I'm very careful who I hug and don't believe that casual touch is normal. Human touch is a very intimate and personal thing for me. I don't like to share drinks, though food is fine. I can't bare to use public bathrooms for the most part. I'm convinced that milk goes bad three days before the expiration date.

And above all... Old people freak me the fuck out.

Guess what? Arizona is full of snowbirds. Who all have to go the MVD to get their Arizona license.
On a monday.
At nine am.
When I'm there.


So I filled out my forms, got my little ticket, filled out more forms, I take the eye test, fill out my forms again and find a seat on the edge of a row. Now this seat was chosen very strategically. Since I was on the edge there was only one side for people to sit next to me on. Lucky for me, the next person was three seats down, which meant that no one else would go sit there because it would force said person to sit next to either me or her. So I was safe.

Or so I thought.

I hadn't been sitting there for more then ten minutes before an old couple that had to lean on each other in order walk sat down next to me. RIGHT NEXT TO ME in the two empty seats.
And they smelled like old people.

Instantly I was conflicted. My instincts screamed to get up and move to a different seat. My upbringing told me that would be very very rude. And as much as my body was screaming that someone was in my personal space and that someone was an old lady who smelled of peppermint and white diamonds, I also, for reasons I can not decipher, did not want to hurt this old lady's feelings.

So I sat there. Shrinking into myself and trying not to breathe old people fumes.

Two hours passed.

About this time I realized the MVD employees were cruel,evil minions. All their stupid little tickets with the Supposed random letters and numbers were just their way of torturing us. And after two hours I had figured out their system. If you were under the age of 25 you got a ticket that made you wait an hour. If you had a baby that was sleeping you waited 15 minutes. A baby that was crying, or multiple babies? three hours. Old people waited two hours, fat people waited four. Now you may be asking, what about pretty people? Well I don't know how long pretty people would have had to wait, because there weren't any. I'm serious. Not a single pretty person.

I realized about hour three that there must be a pretty person MVD. Where only the pretty people go, where the employees serve donuts and smile and say yes sir. And somehow I misplaced my invite. Or worse.. maybe I had never gotten an invite to the pretty person MVD.
So now in addition to trying to not to breathe old people stink I'm suddenly faced with all the insecurities that being an american girl is blessed with.
Yee haw.

They finally call my number.
I fill out more forms. They make me pay them money that I'm pretty sure was bribe money. And then they direct me to another line. The employee didn't explain why I needed to go wait in that line when I had just spent three hours waiting to speak to her. Just a curt nod in the direction I was supposed to wait.

I was infuriated. I spent another half hour in another line... expect this time there wasn't anyone manning the station. I mean, there was a women there when I got in line, but once there was only two people in front of me... she just went poof!. No explanation to the long line. No "i'll be right back". The employee just walked away. For thirty minutes. By the time someone new walked up and started to help us I had a whole speech planned out. All the things I was going to say that would put these asshole employees in their place and make them reevaluate the way they treated people. and when it was my turn I marched up to the counter, slid my paperwork to her, opened my mouth...

And the employee nodded curtly at another line and told me I needed to go wait there.

I shut my mouth and demurely walked over to the other line.
Oh yeah, the rebellion is going to recruit me any day now.

The last line was the final line. They took my picture, reprinted my license with a cool little M on the back and allowed me to leave. It took a total of five minutes.

As I was finally set free I looked around the parking lot and realized.. all those people that I had sat with for the last three and a half hours, they were all getting approved TO DRIVE. Those "people" were going to be sharing the road with me.
At least, they would have been if I lived in that city. Suddenly I was grateful I had made that thirty minute drive.


I got the hell out of there.