My Love for the DMV, Puking Toddlers and Wood Doors

I feel the need to tell everyone of my love of the DMV. My daughter Morgan is now 16 and needed me to bring her to the DMV this past weekend to get her learner’s permit. Waking up early on a Saturday morning to go to the DMV after going to bed at 2:30 AM after playing Zombies all night had the sound of a promising day that I couldn’t wait to jump into!

First I need to rewind 14 years and explain to you Morgan’s first ever  experience with the DMV. Back in 1998 I bought a 1985 Monte Carlo SS which is one of my all time favorite cars for $2500 from a guy who went to tech school and “rebuilt” the engine. I thought I had a good deal on my hands but when I was looking at the car I bumped my head on the corner of the open trunk and had a small cut on my forehead. I should have taken the hint and run away right then.

So I needed to get plates for my car. My wife was out with our older daughter and I had Morgan who was still a toddler with me for the day. I got pumped up and decided today would be the day I go to DMV. I packed Morgan up in the back seat of the van and off we went. She had a habit of coughing until she gagged and she would continue this until she puked. Well about half way to DMV she started coughing and coughing and sure enough puked all over the back of my seat and the floor of the van. So I turned around and drove back home (angrily I might add) and took her out, cleaned everything up and went back for more. This time we drove to DMV without issue.

We get there and get my number, which is of course like 100 away. Waiting, waiting and more waiting – just what everyone knows and loves about our favorite state agency. So 4 hours later and it’s now getting close to closing time and I have about 20 numbers to go. Morgan’s sippy cup is empty and I figure now is the time to go get a refill so I don’t miss my number. I walk out and there is an inspection lane officer standing between the double doors and says “have a nice day”. I say I will but we’ll be right back. I go to the van, refill her cup and go to walk back in. There is a couple standing outside leaning against the wall smoking a cigarette near the door. I go to open the door and it’s locked. I knock and the inspection guy comes over, cracks it open and says “we’re closed”. I said well I have a number and I just came out to get my daughter juice. “Sorry I can’t let you back in” and he shuts the door and locks it! I stand back, daughter in my arms in shock.

The couple looks at me and the guy says “that’s fucked up”. So I wait for a minute for someone to come out, as they do I step in the door and the guy shoulder bumps me (with my daughter in my arms) and won’t let me through. Now my adrenaline is pumping. I start raising my voice telling him that I have been there for 4 hours, my number is almost up and I am getting back in that building to get my plates. He tells me it’s not happening. I start swearing and yelling very loudly, making a scene and now everyone still in the DMV sees me and starts staring. I tell him to go get who is in charge so instead of him getting the person in charge of the DMV, he goes and gets the chief inspection lane officer (his boss) who comes out and I explain the situation to him. He takes his employee’s side and tells me to go on my way, that I shouldn’t have gone out the door to get my daughter juice. Are you kidding me?!? At this point I totally lose my shit and start berating them with a barrage of swears and names (yes with my daughter still in my arms) that makes them all look at me with blank stares and open mouths. I wave my middle finger back and forth and say “wave to the assholes goodbye Morgan”.

As I got in my van I contemplated driving through the doors of the DMV but as angry as I was I still was rational enough to realize that I didn’t want to go to jail. I drove home enraged and held it together until I got there. I see my wife and she says “what’s wrong”? You know how when you are really upset and everything’s OK until someone asks you that? Yeah well I just lost it. I was so angry I couldn’t speak straight, tears streaming down my face, screaming, swearing, shaking. Yeah it was like that. I went upstairs and put my fist through a solid wood door several times until my hand was absolutely throbbing. Had the guy not bumped me with my daughter I might have been OK but that was just not cool. My wife called the Governor’s office and complained and a rep actually called her back quickly and said that there was no reason that should’ve happened, that it was insensitive for them to not allow me to go get my daughter a drink and come back in. You think?? So they send me back and tell me to find the woman who is in charge, tell her who I am and no waiting, they will give me my plates. Gee thanks!  She even dug into the pile of plates to find me an easy number – 111 MXP. I’ll never forget it as long as I live.


About Alton B. Etheridge III

My Last Years of Childhood is about my musings as I relive my childhood in words before I get too old to remember!
This entry was posted in Childhood, Confessions, Growing Up, Life, Memoir, Nostalgia and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to My Love for the DMV, Puking Toddlers and Wood Doors

  1. Pingback: My Love for the DMV Continues With Enough Identification to Become A Citizen of Uranus | My Last Year of Childhood

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