DMV vs. Root Canal

There's no way around it, my procrastination during this past week has now reached its final day. Today is the day I must take my new "used" vehicle for the required emissions testing, then on to the DMV for a new title and registration. I am anticipating long lines and a slew of unhappy state employees who take out their frustrations on we the people. To tell you the truth, I would rather go to the dentist for a root canal.

What I think I'll dread the most about today is being guided into the emissions bay. The technician will signal for me to pull forward, then quickly motion me to steer left, then right. He'll hold one hand up for me to stop, then motion to me to make a slight left by giving me the international sign for one inch. Yeah, buddy, I have an international sign for you right here! Then he'll wave his hands frantically and put both hands up directing me to back up and start all over. If this happens, I'll just abandon my car and let him do it.

Once I have finally made it into the bay, I'll be put in a small booth and watch a couple of guys talk amongst themselves while glancing my way giving me the impression there is something seriously wrong as they put my vehicle through all the tests. Then it hits me, something vaguely familiar. Have you ever noticed while waiting in that booth there is a certain smell? One you can't quite put your finger on? Here's an idea, I will practice my breathing without smelling technique before I even leave the house this morning.

All I want is that piece of paper I have paid $25 for so I can make my way on down to the DMV. Oh, I can't wait to arrive and find that the only parking space available is at the far end of the lot. Note to self: Wear sneakers. Once inside, I'll take a number and look up to discover there are 56 people ahead of me in line. I better stop and buy a magazine on the way so I won't have to make conversation with the person who keeps hacking up a lung I end up sitting next to, provided I get a seat at all.

I hope I have all my paper work in order so I won't be moved from one line to another just to be moved back to my original line. I also hope I don't end up at the window where that woman who keeps looking at me over the top of her glasses with disdain after each question she asks. I know, it's an intimidation tactic, but that won't stop my voice from quivering as I answer. I believe I now understand why there are 4 inches of bullet proof glass between us.

Once this agonizing process is over I will run as fast as I can back to my car with hopes of remembering where I parked. I will put that plate on my vehicle using the screwdriver from the glove box, torque those screws as tightly as I can, then quickly make my getaway. Heaven forbid that woman realizes she made a mistake and sends security after me to retrieve my plate and forces me back into line. Oh look, the line has dwindled, there are now only 42 people ahead of me.

I ask you, DMV or root canal?


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