My Day At The RMV by Garyson Winn

There is this old woman with a string to secure her glasses to her face. She is frail and cannot stand properly erect without the aid of her cane. This woman is allowed to drive. She Doesn't have the ability to keep her bifocal glasses on her face but she can drive a 2000 lb moving object at speeds up to 65 miles per hour. She has been deemed acceptable by the state of Massachusetts to be safe in her community and to make split second decisions when it can mean some bodies life. Holy shit.


There are two children next to me of some sort of Spanish decent. They can't seem to sit still. Perhaps because they had lucky charms for breakfast. They have silly straws that they were playing with but I see no evidence of a cup in which they belong to.  The mother keeps telling them to shut up and sit still on the wooden bench I'm sitting on. They constantly shake said bench. I dream about throwing them off of a bridge. The one child has a pony tail but is more masculine than the other child and is wearing Mike Jordan brand sneakers like a city style gang member would wear before icing a fellow shitmark on society. The boy starts to cry when the mother takes said silly straw away from him. Oh cruel world. How could he have been dealt such a cruel fate. The straw is gone forever, into the black hole known has mi madres purse. Stay strong little bendejo. Stay strong.


 It's a lot like what I imagine the end of the world being like, a bunch of people standing around relentlessly struggling to pursue personal gain. I believe that each town should have an adequate RMV. The Springfield RMV is under staffed much like any state development. So I give 48 minutes of time plus whatever the cost of registration which is my hard earned money and is also another investment in my life. The time adds up and the state is draining me of what ever resources they can take. There is a Russian boy with a mullet and he is here with his girlfriend who looks ghostly. An  extremely large woman just walked past me and the smell of urine followed her and now she stands near me entrenched in the smell of pee. It's so bizarre.


I'm beginning to think the urine smell is coming from some gilligan looking mother fucker in front of me who is 20 years over due. Surely a man who pisses himself and doesn't have the social awareness to realize it should be a safe driver. I feel super safe now.


There is a gentleman to the left of me explaining a grievance he has with this department about how everyone else is a bad guy for negligence. The reason he is at the DMV is because of a DUI he received two years ago. Usually a police officer will let a person go if they can speak fluently.  So this man must have been super trashed. And now he's paying the price for his negligence. But stupid people make false rationalizations. This is why it is impossible for them to learns from their mistakes.


I'm the next number of the A variety at the DMV. They have been only calling A,B,C, and D variety and now that I'm the next one in line they start calling I and now Z variety. What the fuck? Now they are calling every letter but mine?! Holy shit.