Day at the Auto License Office

Yesterday 2 ½ hours was spent in line renewing automobile tags. To serve others, this branch office has 14 service windows. At no time were more then four open. Waiting with 200 others made me realize, this is truly the great equalizer of mankind. There are people applying for Mercedes Benz tags as well as Ford Escorts. All are miserable.

Customers wait on former church pews, now refurbished for waiting on government workers. These pews hear language never intended for them. We cram together on these pews. To my left is a woman in her 12th month of pregnancy. My right, a sleeping elderly man periodically rests his head on my shoulder. I am number 79. Now serving number 12.

One at a time their number is called. A weary customer walks to the front counter. “Is it really me?” number 12 cries, limping to the front counter, his leg asleep from two hours of non use. Anxiously the euphoric driver pays his due and is issued a new tag. Congratulations, number 12 can legally drive anywhere in America. I saw number 12’s vehicle. The $89 dollar auto tag is more value then the 1973 Chevy Vega attached to it.

Now serving number 23.

“Hallelujah!” number 23, apparently a religious woman jumps to her feet. This isn’t her first time sitting for long periods of time on pews. I assume she’s Baptist. Shuffling through credentials the dear saint registers. Swing low sweet chariot, coming low to carry her home. Bless you number 23.

My turn, number 79. Symbolic because now I feel 79. On arrival I was fresh, clean. Now I need a shave. “I would like to renew my car license,” The clerk looks at me with well deserved amusement thinking, “Renew a car license? At the car tag office? What a novel idea.”

The dues are paid, four automobiles legally mine. Every February I vow this will be the last time enduring death by civil service. This time I mean it. I’m buying a horse.