posted on Feb, 4 2006 @ 04:52 PM
Ok, I was somewhat excited to go fetch a learner's permit today. That meant I'd finally get to learn driving. So I go down the the DMV nice and
early. The skies are grey, and it's snowing. I figure although that can't possibly be a good omen of thiings to come, I decided not to be a
So I get there, the line has stretched outside. Incidenly it's snowing, and it's windy. Perfect way to start my day, wait in line while it's
snowing. So finally after a bit of waiting I get inside. Once inside the demon known as a bueracrat asked why I was there, and gave me a number.
Incidenly it served no purpose as to ask me why I was there as they had to ask again once I got to the desk.
I went to take a seat with my grandfather who took me to the DMV, it was there that I found the most lively e mployee of the entire DMV; to plastic
plant. I noticed that for a bunch of paper loosing demons who emphasize effeceny, they failed to realize the underlying flaw in the waiting area.
Nobody wants to sit next to eachother. Thus there would be a seat between every two groups of people, or a seat on either side of each person in some
cases. There I waited for probably half an hour at least, watching as a variety of people came into the DMV. Oddly enough I can't seem to remember
a single person actually leaving the DMV.
Finally my number was called. I proceeded to the desk were I was interogated by another demon who just so happened to get a job with the state
goverment. It makes me wonder why we're sending terrorists to Gitmo when the local DMV gets the same job done.
So anyhow I get all my stuff out of an envelope. For some odd reason they want a birth certificate, social security card, mail with my address on it,
and the application form. That sort of implies that they think there's somebody dumb enough to want to impersonate me. I find that's an insult to
the school system. Then again I insult the school system all the time, so no harm done.
But these bueracrats are mysterious creatures. They insist that everything be done in pen. Which meant I had to redo everything in pen that had been
done in pencil. Honestly, what're the chances that Jesse White (the secratary of state for the state of Illinois) is going to come in and want to
erase my information? While I was doing this the bueracrat who was supposed to be torturing my soul left to torture someone else.
So after a few minutes of waiting, some powerful diety (God, Satan, Allah, Zeus, Spongebob, one of them) apparently felt it was time for me to suffer
from bueracracy again. So the demon came back, apparently thirsty for my blood. After asking a few questions finally came the vision test.
After about a week of studying signs and such for my writing test, I was hit by the brute force of irony. I never made it to the written test,
instead I failed the vision test. Which means that they won't even give me the actual written test until I get glasses.
Thus the reason I shall forever refer to the eighth circle of hell as the DMV.