The Huddled Masses Yearning to Breathe Free

Yesterday I decided I could avoid it no longer . . . .

I had to go to the DMV.

Not only did I need to change my drivers license back to Maryland, but I also needed to get the registration done for the car I bought last month. The temporary tags from Kansas, where I bought the car, are about to expire. In my defense, I wasn't procrastinating. I had to wait to get the inspection done, get certain documents in the mail, and then return from General Council.

So yesterday morning, I sat at the dining table with a pile of paperwork, checking off all the documents I would need to present at the many stations of the DMV. I must say, the forms are not easy to understand. Even online, where I did most of my research, I would find myself clicking in circles, trying to follow the maze of instructions for tags, registration, titles, taxes, etc.

Finally, when most of the morning was almost gone, I thought I had it all together, so I left the house, with my mother shouting, "Do you have a book? You'll be there for hours!" behind me helpfully. Thanks, Mom.

In my county there are two Motor Vehicle Offices: one in Glen Burnie and one in Annapolis. The Glen Burnie office is a large multi-story building, housing also offices for Maryland Department of Transportation. Last I remember, it seemed like a fluorescent lit, scuffed and dirty room full of disgruntled masses in lines. You could stand in line for hours only to be told you were in the wrong line by one of the blue-haired, gravelly-voiced women with eyeglasses on a chain, that the DMV seems to breed. Everyone hated it.

Then the county built the Annapolis office for the southern end of the county, and it was a shiny, new building. Since Annapolis is a wealthier area of our county, the clientele is shiny, too. Word quickly spread that the Annapolis branch was clean, fast, and friendly. So those of us in the middle of the county changed our loyalties practically overnight, thereby making the Annapolis lines somewhat longer.

Yesterday, I got my number and sat on the central benches, but I hardly had to wait more than thirty minutes to get my license. The tag/title line had no wait at all, but there, I hit a major snag. The signature of one of the previous owners was missing on the title, and the bill of sale for the car wasn't "professional" enough. I guess it looked suspicious, even though I tried to explain that in Kansas, they probably aren't as picky. Also, the dealer who sold me the car is easily 75 years old. I doubt he creates bill-of-sale templates on his computer in his free time.

Despite my best arguments, I came home without the registration; more work has to be done. Contrary to my mother's estimate, I was only at the DMV about an hour, before leaving my comrades-in-lines still waiting with their glazed looks and slack jaws of boredom.
Ariel Rainey2 Comments