DMV

You'd think, by now, that the DMV would have a more efficient process for funneling people in and out.

Long, tedious and torturous story short, I peddled to the DMV earlier today to acquire a learners permit. At long last, as I mentioned before, after never having a drivers license (I like bicycling!) I've ended up finally desiring one now that there's a car share program in Salt Lake City. With this schnazzy program, there are cars parked in various spots around the city and members can reserve one, use their card to get into the car, "rent" it for a few hours or a day, and then park it where they picked it up. Awesome!

Ahem, moving on.

On my way to the DMV I considered stopping at a gas station to empty my bladder, but figured there would be a restroom somewhere obvious at the DMV that I could use (notice the foreshadowing).

I get to the DMV, lock my bicycle up, and immediately notice that there's a line extending out the door and into the parking lot. Off to a good start indeed!

The DMV torture machine commences. I stand in line.

Once we're in the building there are signs everywhere that say, "FILL OUT AN APPLICATION BEFORE GETTING IN LINE". Agh of course!

So I leave the line, get an application, fill it out, get back in line.

As I'm in line, I realize there are questions on the BACK of the page, also (ahhh!!!!). I didn't have a pen on me, so I left the line for a 2nd time, filled out the back, then got back in line.

There's ONE lady at a desk handling this massive line of people. And about 90% of them she sent away because they didn't have all of the required I.D. documentation, something like, "Two forms of this and your birth certificate and a social security something something passport..." yada yada.

At last my turn arrives. I give her my I.D., social security card, Passport, AND W-2 tax form. It's not enough! After ruffling through my pile o' proof, she tells me, "We also need two pieces of mail that have been sent to the address you're currently living at.", Why unholy DMV why!!!!

So I leave the line again, rummage through my bag and, Ah ha! Two pieces of mail from the college I was admitted to!

Then I get back into line. Finally I'm face-to-face with my old desk lady friend again. She then tells me that, technically, the mail needs to be from two separate locations, but, to do me a favor, she logged in and updated my address so everything matched. Yay! Time saver!

Then she turned to the photo-taking feller next to her, "Alright, his documents look good. Snap his picture---..", and then she loudly corrected herself, yelling over to him as I sat down for my photo, "Er, I mean, her picture."

I insta-noticed the entire line of people look over. I smiled. A bit uncomfortable, but, whatdoyado. Picture was snapped. Then I entered another room to wait for my number to be called.

After about 30 minutes of sitting there and as my bladder became increasingly unbearable, the guy behind me complained about how he'd been sitting there for two hours waiting for his number to be called.

I needed to pee, but I was in a bit of a dilemma I hadn't experienced before. I pass as dude, but that lady had loudly exclaimed the "SHE" correction in front of most of the people I was sitting amongst; and the bathroom was right there, in plain sight of everyone sitting. I wasn't sure if I could walk into the mens without a problem, or should use the womens. Both prospects were anxiety-inducing to all hell. So I sat. I held it in. I texted my friend, Jay, about my need to pee and she replied, "You know that a lot of trannies get bladder infections, don't you?"

Nooo! I held. I squirmed. The guy behind me whined. And, somehow, instead of 2 hours later my number was called after an hour!

I gathered up my junk and approached the table thinking, "Test number one will be vision. Easy. Test number two will be the written test. No problem. Learner permit, here I come!"

The woman behind the counter ruffles through my pile o' proof, and asks, "You know that your mail is supposed to come from two separate locations, right?" -- I tell her yes, and then she replies, "Well, it's obvious that this is official. These are school letters. You're fine.", and then the vision test.

I stick my head in the device. She asks me to read line one. It's all a blur. I ask, "Are those numbers or letters?" (bad sign). "Letters.", she replies. Seriously? And so I go for it, "O... O... N... Z.... R...?", she changes something on the knob, then asks again, "Okay, try it again.", ... it was even worse that time. Instead of guessing it, I tell her, "There's no way. It's all a blur."

FAIL.

I failed the DMV's basic vision test! I'm blind and had no idea! BLIND!

Learner permit here I come? Not so much. Glasses, on the other hand...