DMV, White Trash, Bumper Stickers….

 

Tomorrow is my birthday.  Which means my driver’s license expires.  I had to go down to the local DMV in North Kansas City to get it renewed.  What is the deal with the DMV?  Why is it when ever I go there are no normal people there?  Everyone, and I mean everyone is White Trash.  The whole room stinks of BO.  The body odor alone could probably kill a small animal or bird.

So, I drive up to the DMV and get ready to park.  I notice three cars with bumper stickers plastered all over them.  You know the cars I’m talking about.  They are always the shitty, rusted out Honda Civics, Toyota Pickups, and Ford Escorts.  I don’t get it.  I really don’t.  Why do these people do this?  And it’s the same type of people, hell they are probably from the same trailer court.  There’s probably one hundred dollars worth of stickers on these automobiles.  If the car get’s stolen, highly unlikely, but if it did, the stickers would be worth more than the automobile.  Okay, we know your opinionated, we know you’re white trash, we get it.  Stop with the fucking stickers.

Anyways, I digress.  I walk into the room and calmly grab a number and a chair and wait for my turn to be called to the counter.  I love the numbering system.  When a number gets called out everyone looks at their ticket and then everyone else to see who has the lucky number.  It’s a lot like playing the lottery.  So I wait maybe 45 minutes and finally my number gets called.  WOOT.   I go up to the counter and tell the lady, “I need to renew my license.  It expires tomorrow.” 

Then without a smile with almost a frown she says with a baritone somber, “The line for the renewals is in the other room next door.”

I’m about ready to come unglued.  “GODDAMN YOU MOTHER-FUCKERS!” My mind shouts.  I crumple up the useless ticket throw it on the ground and walk to the next room where luckily I get right in.  So I walk up to the guy at the counter and tell him my spiel about getting my license renewed.  I show him my old driver’s license expecting him to just okay it, charge me, and let me on my merry way.

“We need your birth certificate or passport sir, to renew your license.”  He says in a nonchalant manner.  As if I should’ve just known this.

“Do I look like a terrorist?  Do I talk like I’m from out of the country?  This is a state approved ID you dumb-ass.  Give me my damn license.”  I think, almost out loud.  “So, you’re telling me this isn’t good enough?  I have to drive all the way back home (30 minutes) to get my passport?

“I’m sorry sir, those are the state rules and have been in effect for a year.”  He snobbishly replies.

I am so pissed I could spit venom in his face like an agitated cobra.  Meanwhile, the illegal Mexican immigrant is called in because his driver’s license is ready.  So I walk out of the room, get a whiff of the lovely stench coming from the next room, and head back to the house to get my fucking passport.  It’s almost ironic.  I need a passport to get validation in the United States that I am a US citizen.  And the fucking illegal got his at the snap of his fingers, he couldn’t even answer the question to what zip code he was living in.  I’m not against immigration and I’m glad they are here to do the work we American’s don’t want to do.  But our system is pretty fucked up when shit like this happens.

I go and get my passport.  I’m dying of thirst, it was hot as hell out today in Kansas City.  The car a/c just isn’t doing it.  Driving as fast as I can back to the DMV, slowing when an on coming car is nearing, don’t need a speeding ticket the day of my renewal.

So I arrive, the same people are still in line waiting, babies crying, god I’m glad I don’t work there.  I plop down my passport and driver’s license and with a look of “fuck you, you fucking prick,” in my eyes I say, “are you happy now?”

He checks out a few things and boom, I’ve got my new license.  Thank you Missouri Department of Motor Vehicle Services, and thank you to the government for making the rules so safe for all of us god fearing folk, you arrogant, pompous assholes.

Adam Koehler

adam@adamkoehler.com 
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