When one moves into a new community, the list of things to do is quite long, especially if that move is into another State. Having lived in five other States in my short life of 51 years, the hoop jumping has only gotten worse with time. That is not because my legs are weakening with age, though one could argue the point. And I will confess that I can no longer ‘hula’ the ‘hoop’ when it seems not that long ago I could keep that hoop up and rotating rather easily and for a significant length of time. Sigh.
Today’s trip to the MVC (Motor Vehicle Commission) was quite an education. The State of New Jersey requires six-points of identification to ensure you are who you say you are. Heaven forbid if you are a woman and you changed your name when you got married. Not only is a civil birth certificate required (with appropriate seal) but the marriage certificate issued from the State in which the ceremony took place. In order to be prepared because that’s me, always prepared! I took the little quiz and added extra identifiers to my pile of papers just in case.
The line entering the MVC location was out the door – at least 40 people deep. This does not include all the poor souls of whom I was yet to join sitting in the chairs awaiting their turn. I got to the check in desk and as I pulled out the pile of papers, the woman said, “Oh you look like you have enough there. No need for me to check.” Ha! Into the next line I went and got chatted up by the old guy behind me, regaling me with his house sale woes and poor real estate agent who didn’t have time to show his house because she was busy with her new granddaughter. Sigh. After 30 minutes in line, the pile of papers got plopped on the desk to be sorted, and approved by the clerk. I received my number – 29. “Oh good,” says I, “not too long of a wait.”
“Number 85 please!”
When your number is called, you then get it double checked and told to stand in another line to get your photo taken for the license and pay your fee. At least they’re organized and it keeps the masses moving. I like efficiency, can you tell?
Sighing heavily, I found an empty chair and pulled out my phone to play Angry Birds Rio (which I had to uninstall and reinstall to get the new level, thereby LOSING ALL MY POINTS – no I am not bitter about that – not at all.) While sending the birds flying and crashing, and trying not to easvesdrop which was challenging to say the least, I overheard the woman to my left mutter loud enough to be heard, “Look at that line jumper! S…of…a…b….. Someone needs to haul him out of line.” The elderly man whose number was called confronted the line jumper who argued back, “The clerk allowed me to move forward because I have my little son with me.” To which the elderly man retorted, “I don’t give a damn! I’ve been waiting for 2 hours! Get the h*** out of my way!” Ummm, okay. Geesh.
As the young father and little tot exited after having received the license, the elderly lady to my left cursed him out as he walked past. Thank God the little tot was oblivious to everything save the toy airplane he piloted through the sea of legs. He should have dive bombed the elderly man, but that would be poor parenting and I’m all about good parenting and being a good example. Gosh I hate when that’s necessary, don’t you?
Moving into the next hour of waiting, I overheard two young women seated behind me conversing about one of their beloved dads who was bedridden. She said, “I told him to get out of bed and go to the bathroom before Joey left. He said he didn’t need to go. Joey left and not 20 minutes later Dad wants me to help him to the toilet. I told him he needed to hold it or lay in it until Joey got home. I’m not helping him out of bed to do that!”
Yellow angry bird slammed into the pile of boxes and took them all down in one fell swoop! 85,000 points! Yea! The image on the box? The young woman’s voice behind me.
And to think….I get to do this again in 4 years. New Jersey requires one renew their license in person every four years.