Several days ago, I began a tale of dread, a saga of horror.
I began to tell the story of my trip to the Driver’s License Bureau.
We now will rejoin this tale as our hero is headed to the second of the three lines.
Line 2: Versus Per Totus Of Numerus (The Line With All Of The Numbers)
Having escaped the Decider, I had a seat. While there were 29 people ahead of me, I did not expect it to take that long. I mean, how long could it take to get 29 people to a counter, make them read some numbers off of an eye chart, verify that they are not renowned car crash enthusiasts, then send them on their way?
“I’VE BEEN SITTING HERE FOR THREE HOURS!” screamed a woman behind me. “DON’T EXPECT THIS TO BE A QUICK TRIP, THAT’S FOR SURE! HAHAHAHAHA!”
The room returned to near silence before she started up again.
“WHERE ARE YOU FROM?!” she asked the person next to her. The person next to her looked up startled because that is what people do when a stranger is screaming a question at you from five inches away. “I’M FROM ALABAMA! JUST MOVED HERE LAST MONTH!”
The Alabama Bellower continued to ask question after question to everyone that came near. I nervously looked up at the board. There was no way I could take too much more of her. Maybe it was almost my turn.
Or maybe there were still 29 people in front of me. Apparently the Davidson County, Tennessee Driver’s License Bureau is not concerned about meeting their daily new license quotas.
Behind me, the sound of a phone rang at its highest volume.
“HEY GIRL! WHAT ARE YOU UP TO?!” she screamed. I assume that either her phone was broken or the person on the other end was deaf. They probably had suffered hearing loss from having too many phone conversations with her. “WHAT TIME DO YOU WORK ON SATURDAY?! WHY?! BECAUSE I NEED TO KNOW! THEY NEED TO KNOW IF I CAN COME IN FOR TRAINING!”
I looked around. Nobody else seemed to notice it. No one was acknowledging the fact that this woman was screaming at her phone like she was a drill sergeant. I looked up at the big board of numbers.
Now there were only 28 people ahead of me.
For the sake of my sanity, I headed outside. It was peaceful, almost serene. I was basking in the pure unadulterated quiet. I began to read the book I had brought with me when, without warning, a jack hammer started up across the street. It was loud AND dusty, so I knew I had one choice.
I went back inside. It appeared I had not missed much as she was still on the phone.
“YOU’RE ALMOST OUT OF MINUTES?! YOU NEED TO GO BUY SOME MORE MINUTES FOR YOUR PHONE! OH, BEFORE YOU HANG UP, WHAT HAPPENED WITH JOE?! I HEARD THAT…”
I felt my brain turning into liquid. How can anyone stand to be on the phone with this woman? I can’t even stand being in the same room as her.
After an hour, we were both still there. Then the voice came over the intercom.
“B-27,” the garbled voice spat out.
“THAT’S ME!” the Alabama Bellower cried, jumping up like she had just won a game of bingo. “IT’S FINALLY MY TURN!”
At last, I had my silence. This lasted all of 30 seconds before I was called to the counter. As it turns out, my eyes work and I do not frequently destroy vehicles. They passed me along to the third and final line.
Line 3: Versus Of Partum (The Line Of Creation)
Having made it past the two lines sat out in front of me, I headed to the end of the counter. There to meet me was a friend from Line 1.
The Decider was there.
I handed him my papers and he looked at them skeptically. Maybe he thought I had cleverly forged a paper in the two hours since we had last spoken. I am a fairly intelligent looking person, so that would be a reasonable assumption to jump to, I guess.
Having decided that the papers were indeed legitimate, he slapped them down on the desk. “Go sit on that chair and look at the camera until I say we’re done.”
I imagined this man in a past job at a photo studio, attempting to get a smile from a small toddler. “Okay, you need to look at this funny looking duck and smile until I say you’re done smiling. Then you can leave.”
I looked at the camera and a second later my picture was done. We waited in silence. Awkward, awkward silence. I looked around, hoping to see the Alabama Bellower nearby, but it was just the two of us.
Finally, the printer spat out my license.
“That’s it,” he said.
“Thanks,” I said as I grabbed the license from his hand. There would not be a reply from him. Our business was done and it was time for me to get out of his way.
I hope to never have to return to the lines of the Driver’s License Bureau. By the time my license expires, I will need to have a driver hired, leaving me with no reason to renew.
I have better things to do with my time. Or at least other things.
- Nathan’s Inferno: A Driver’s License Bureau Tale (badlandsbadley.wordpress.com)