I'm at the DMV to change my name on my drivers-license. Life at the DMV is what I envision purgatory would be like. It smells of urine, people are impatient and rude, kids are screaming, and the waiting line seems to stretch out to infinity. I've been here for 1.5 hours and they've only advanced 9 numbers. There are still 12 more numbers ahead of mine... and that's only in my category, whatever that means. They add weird letters in front of numbers to assign you a category and make it impossible to track the progress because suddenly the counter servicing B-numbers switches to G, then back to C followed by I. Great. At this rate I'll be here until I'm old and wrinkly. By then my name might have changed 3 more times, who knows. Note to self: keep my maiden name from now on...for EVER.
Even my usual occupation of people watching does not serve me here. Too many people here look like they do not want to be watched. An uneasy feeling washes over me as the giant white dude with all the tattoos and gold teeth catches me looking at him. He looks pissed, I'm afraid he'll pull a gun out of his ass crack any minute now and take me hostage to punish me for daring to look up from my phone.
To top it off, the number-announcing machine is stuck on repeat blaring the same number out over and over and over again. As if this place didn't already resemble insanity enough. I can't take it anymore, screw this. Dread out.
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