DMV...OT...PS

A week or two ago, I went to the DMV, or, as Texas calls it, the DOT or the DPS. (Mouse over the acronyms. Isn't that cool?) In any case, it's the agency that gives out drivers' licenses.

And the award for most drab and crowded waiting area goes to...


So we got there and took a number. Five, as you can see.


When we got there, the number was 40. This is 96, at least two hours later.


My dad had to fill out a form with a long list of dates that we supposedly did the lessons in the course on.

Most people just skip the work and make up dates to put on the thing.

My dad actually taught me the stuff, but since you're not allowed to do more than two lessons in a week, making up a date list was a good way to waste two hours, or at least ten minutes of those two hours.

After closing time, they proceeded to lock us in.


"What if there's a fire?" a fellow licensee casually remarked. "We'll all die.", I said.