The DMV took my baby away

It's been a pretty eventful week or two, what with the holidays, working on my documentary, getting a super surprising late holiday bonus, having someone steal my identity and purchase an $1100 plane ticket and all...but nothing compared to the sight, one hour ago, of my NYC driver's license being unceremoniously plunged into a shredder at the local DC DMV. Before my very eyes! Jesus, can't they build a private room for that, or give me a warning at the very least, so I could take a moment to shield my eyes? And how about one last visit with my NYC license? Oh, the humanity. I'll never impress an overzealous DC doorman again.

Why would I do something as outlandish as trade in my NYC license for its desultory DC cousin? Because DC is the kind of over-bureaucratic pseudo city that makes you jump through about 5 gazillion hoops to park a car on the street while meanwhile the murder rate skyrockets and half the city burns. Why can't I just park my car in front of my house with NJ plates and a NY license? Who the hell knows. Probably for the same reason you can't find anything to eat after 10pm. Ugh. Don't get me started.

Anyway, without further ado, a few observations from my attempts to score a DC driver's license:

1. I'm honestly not sure what's worse: the seriously misplaced over-popularity/snarling traffic en route to the Georgetown DMV branch (honestly, what the hell is so desirable about Georgetown? The Banana Republic?) or the what-country-am-I-in/better lock the doors/snarling traffic en route to the Brentwood DMV. A friend once remarked that DC is either white and boring or black and scary, and I think he makes a fine point - though, truth be told, the Brentwood DMV isn't at all scary.

2. The Brentwood DMV is, however, located in a strip mall.

3. I had to pay $6 to park at the Georgetown DMV, which proved way too busy to actually enter. Thus, I paid six bucks to duck my head into the DMV and take a quick look around. Unreal.

4. Several people were actually sleeping on the floor of the Georgetown DMV.

5. While in line (outside) at Brentwood, I was privy to a fascinating debate regarding whether teens are crueler to their elders in Mississippi or North Carolina. It seems Mississippi takes the cake. In fact, NC was met with derisive chuckles, as "that ain't even the South."

6. The supremely hefty security guard in Brentwood invited the line to try and get past him, claiming he could take us all on at once (no doubt).

7. The license itself is so garish, I first thought they'd actually handed me a glow stick. I haven't seen anything this over-wrought since the last time I strolled through the "new" Columbia Heights. Wait, I think I see a cranny where they could still fit another piece of calligraphy.

8. If I knew checking "donor" would result in an outlandish red heart straight out of 1980s-era Clip Art appearing on my drivers license, I wouldn't have bothered.

9. I swear to God, one of life's great pleasures is sitting next to an elderly black gentleman, trading shitty stories about the DMV, then getting to shake my head and utter the phrase, "It's always something." I haven't connected with the black community like that since the last time I pretended not to be Jewish.

10. While in line, the woman behind me remarked that she "liked this place a hell of a lot better when it sold ribs." Yes, in DC the DMV was once a bbq rib takeout joint.