DMV, the great equalizer.

Everybody is treated the same.
Everybody has a number.
Everybody gets in the same lines.
Everybody has a number that the 'fake lady' (computer) calls out, monotonously, but evenly.
Everybody speaks a different native tongue.

Except for people like me. "Un petit peu," that about does it for my French.

Nobody gets mad, and if they are frustrated it doesn't show too much. Nobody wants to get thrown under the (DMV) bus...because each of us has a purpose in being there. The primary goal is...get in and then just get outta there. Don't say too much. Yes, sir. No ma'am.

Once I passed the point of no return (after over an hour in line, outside, in the heat), I was inside for at least 30 minutes before I was assigned to the G group. When I started looking at the number 'she' was calling, it was number 88. I was 118. This could be a long day.

The DMV has a TV channel...maybe it's called DMV - TV. No movies, mostly ads. I can't even remember what was on the TV.  I did expect Bob Barker to show up on the DMV-TV yelling my number and calling me to "come on down!" Yep, I mean Bob Barker from The Price Is Right. But, not so much.

The reason I was there was to get an interim drivers license, because my backpack was either 1) misplaced 2) lost (somewhere in A-town) 3) maybe stolen. I've tried not to go there, because I think all folks are basically honest. It will be interesting to see if/when it shows up.

And yes, my phone was NOT in my backpack.

So on Sunday, after my open house, I drove to some appointments on the island without my license. I do not do things like this well, at all. I was glad to get back on my bike.

I placed calls to my credit card companies. In less than 2 days those had been replaced.

I didn't want to trouble anybody I knew, so I decided to get an Uber (driver)? to get me to where I wanted to go. Marilyn's DMV Adventure started with an Uber driver, and we picked up another passenger. Super clean car. Very nice guy who spoke well, and with an accent.

The return trip was another scene. The driver spoke like he was from Chikaugo, but he said he most recently was from Laus Vhagus. This driver never took a breath...it was a wonder that he didn't fahl ovah, And then he started tahking to me about guns. And how many he had... and then I just tuned him out. Turns out he'd never been to Alameda, and he was quite charmed by it. Mahby he could find a studio over here.

Even though I ended up bringing more I.D. than I needed (recent statements that showed my mailing address on it), and my passport, I found (thank you deal Lord) a copy of my social security card. So that never seemed to be an issue. What I couldn't seem to do was get an appointment. So I just showed up there with a bunch of decent folks. And most of us seemed to walk outta there, just with what we needed.

Live richly...watch your packback. marilyn