DMV

Last Wednesday Katlin, Kathy and I went to the DMV to get new driver’s licenses. Since we moved we needed to get new licenses that show our new address. Now here’s an interesting place: the DMV. It’s up there with visiting the Bus Station and the Dollar Store after dark. The DMV is one of these places, that at some point in time everyone has to go there – and eventually everyone does. This place was packed out with all different kinds of people (present company included). As I sat and looked at my old driver’s license, I realized that I hadn’t been to the DMV in 13 years. That’s how old my license was! They just keep sending me renewal stickers in the mail and I just kept slapping them on the back of my old license. I forgot what an experience this place can be.

There were some very interesting people to say the least. Since I love to sit and watch people this place was perfect (Airports are great too). What struck me about this place is that every person was there because they had a problem. I was sitting near the counter where everyone checked in at so I could hear all the conversations. First there was the guy who pleaded his case with the receptionist on how he lost his license due to too many tickets. She smiled, told him to take a seat and explained that he would have his opportunity to explain his situation. Then there was the guy who lost his license years ago in another state because of DUI’s. He hadn’t been driving for many years and now needed a license for his new job. He was frustrated by the dead ends he kept running in to and turned to his friend and said “They gotta know I’m not that person anymore, I don’t do that stuff anymore.” His friend patted him on the arm and reassured him by saying “Don’t worry, we’ll work through this”. Or there was the young Muslim lady who sat next to me talking on her cell phone to her insurance company. She was trying to find out how she could get her vehicle registration out of her estranged husbands name. The person on the other end of the phone must have said that she would need to contact him. The young lady became upset and said “That simply won’t be possible. The judge ordered that there be no contact between us due to domestic violence.” But what I enjoyed the most was watching the three little girls play. Stair stepped in ages from 1 to 3, they were poorly dressed, wore no shoes and the bottom of their white socks were black as coal. One had a hole in the end of her sock and her little toe was poking out. But they didn’t care they played and had a big time. Completely oblivious to their circumstances and environment they smiled, laughed and enjoyed each other to no end. The long wait to conduct our business went by quickly watching these three little girls have fun.

In between all of the activity we talked. We started talking about kids and responsibility. My wife is very passionate about this subject. So much so that when she started voicing her opinion, the pitch and volume of her voice started to rise. I looked around and noticed people were staring and that we had become the “interesting” people that you watch at the DMV. Once she realized what she was doing she stopped and I settled uncomfortably in my seat. After awhile we somehow got on the subject of candy machines. While were doing so I made a hand gesture as if I was getting something from a vending machine. But it wasn’t like I was getting something from one of the fancy new button type of candy machines. It was one of the really old types that were around when I was growing up. It was the kind that had the bar that you pulled towards you. (If you’re over forty I’m sure you remember them). After I made the hand movement Katlin imitated my motion and said “What was that all about?” I must have looked confused because he continued by saying “That thing with your hands and the candy machine, what was that all about?” Realizing that he had never seen one, I explained to him that candy machines haven’t always been push button. He sat there with a yeah-right look on his face and his mother chimed in and said “He’s serious Katlin, they haven’t always been electronic.” He then realized that we were serious and he was only able to manage a subdued “Wow”. After I finished looking at my son, I noticed that we had once again become the center of attention and all eyes were on us. I then realized that we were the freaks. The ones everyone watchea and warns their friends about. “I saw the weirdest family at the DMV today, they freaked me out.” If you hear anyone say this after a trip to the DMV then you know we were there.

Besides the long wait (well over an hour) I really didn’t mind going to the DMV. In a really weird way, it was kind of enjoyable. I don’t care to go back anytime soon but it was entertaining. What was interesting is what I thought about on the drive back to work. Here’s a place where everyone has to go, no one is exempt, that is if they want to drive. It’s a place for all types of people, color, income, social status, weirdo's, freaks, business types – none of it mattered and all are welcome. As I was driving I was thinking wouldn't it be great if our churches were as open and accepting as the DMV? Don't worry what you've done or how strange you appear to others, just come and bring your problem. Come on in and have a seat...Jesus will be with you in a moment. Church of the DMV? I doubt it would catch on...