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 re