The DMV Circus

Given the fact that, at a bank, a DMV or any other establishment- with which- you will be waiting around for a while; It still surprises me how much complaining people do there. Bring a damn book! I heard The Queen of the Sweet Potatoes is a page turner. Or an iPhone with game apps! Angry Birds! What good does it do to complain first of all, anyway? That question was rhetorical, don't answer that. It doesn't do ANY good. In case you really wanted an answer to that question, don't. Let's examine this, like filmmaker  George Clarke's alleged and amazing film discovery... Did he ever figure out how make the time travel? We should ask Charlie Chaplian. But, since we can't, I'm going to hypothesize a big fat NOPE. Although, if the futuristic person sashaying behind a zebra, circa 1928, is any indication, as he gleefully chums along, engaged in a phone call... Wait. A phone call? A cell phone call? Has to be a time traveller. I'm convinced. Because maybe cell phones and time travel to 1928, do indeed exist. Or was he a she? Sorry madam. I can't tell by the clothes in that era. Think back. Jog your memory bank. For some of you... this will take you far, far back. Far.... far back.

When you were a kid, remember the span when you'd whine and somehow your punishment would get… worse? You'd complain and you'd just dig a deeper hole for yourself? Maybe I was just always getting into trouble. Stomping my feet should work. It didn't. But it never hurt to always try.  Or, you wanted some toy at the store and the more you complained the further away it went. You're begging for a Bratz doll and it ultimately becomes a choice between the parakeet you always wanted and you leaving with the Bratz doll. Sigh. I probably would've starved the parakeet anyway. Or left to the cage open. I wanted to play with that feathered friend. How was I supposed to know it would fly away?  Next thing you know, mama and papa indignantly mutter, "You say one more peep and you won't get it at all." You peeped. Gone forever was my ever-wanting, under life or death circumstances, the American Girl Doll that would have changed my life forever. You were going to adore her for five minutes and then play with the box for weeks on end anyway. Sigh. Boxes never got old, did they… Building forts, making cardboard clothes for your dolls. Those were the days. Huh? Now I want to build a hut.

Recently, I was at the DMV and mind you, I went to a location other than the obvious one to which I'm nearby for the sake of saving time. It did. It was more miles out of the way; But, it was MUCH faster... once I was in that place. I ponder reminiscently of the day I went in for a perm and came out feeling victorious that I went with the hair stylist's suggestion to go with the Brazilian blowout instead. That was a great day. As I pride myself on the decision of doing my business at this undisclosed location, it took less than an hour. Because I'm happy.... I know, you sang it as you read it to. Damn you Pharrell and your catchy tune. Trips like this have never taken such a short amount of time. Most people in that place went to that location for the very same reason. They 'heard' it was faster. It was. Yet still, sitting across from me was an elderly gentleman who could not restrain his agitation with how long he was waiting. Giving the evil-eye to every other "number" being called; but his. Hey grandpa, did you ever meet Charlie Chaplain? Was that really a time traveller on the set of The Circus? I know you can solve this debate... And one more thing, did you ever have a parakeet?

 The two ladies next to me have bonded over their number never being called as they giggle their way through the ridiculing day. I bet they got their Bratz doll when they asked mommy for it. Who else would so anxiously be annoyed staring at the monitors demandin their number be next. I loved the Bratz with the leather outfit and purple hair as much as you did. But you mean girls probably had the whole collection. I'm not mad. I got over it yesterday. Not everyone could have a whole collection of dolls dedicated to showing young girls how many different types of whores there can be in society. Role models are great to have. Waiting room tramps. Now that's a doll I would buy.

As my number is called, I joyously hop up from my seat as I feel I've stumbled upon my own little secret DMV tilt-o-whirl escape. I've managed to avoid being the bearded lady at the circus and triumphantly scoot across the juggling dingo without being punched. Now if I can figure out time travel... I'd have Charlie Chaplain over for dinner.