A Slice of Life at the DMV

Yesterday afternoon at the DMV Hubby and I waited, and waited, and waited. Take a number: 72. Now serving: 65. Our DMV office folks are really very efficient. It's the ill-prepared public that makes the wait so long. Anyway, we're sitting there people watching and Hubby nudges me and points.

The old man was a grandpa type; a shock of white hair, overalls, work shirt and work boots. He was slouched against the counter looking extremely bored. He had been to the DMV office a thousand or so times in his life. Next to him was a young kid taking the eye exam for a driver's license.

The kid was reading off alphabet letters and answering the examiner with very polite "Yes ma'ams" and "No ma'ams." He stood up straight and tall, his body language reflecting the magnitude of this very special day. The pair looked like they had just stepped out of a Norman Rockwell painting.

The kid was wearing his best Sunday-go-to-Meetin' clothes: a long-sleeved shirt and tie, dark suit pants, and stiff shiny shoes. It was an important day calling for important clothes even though it was 90 degrees outside.

He sat down to have his photo taken, adjusted his tie, and ran his fingers nervously through his hair. His smile was a bit unsure. He was anxious, excited and a little overwhelmed. This was his first time at the DMV and it was all new and wondrous.

The waiting crowd realized what was going on with the kid. They remembered their first driver's license and what a big day that was for them. Even though they didn't know the players they knew the story. They understood grandpa's role, they sensed the kid's apprehension, they felt the uncomfortable dress clothes. Twenty pairs of eyes watched the kid's every move and absorbed every expression. This was interesting stuff in an otherwise boring afternoon at the DMV.

I got a little sniffley-eyed watching the mini drama unfold. Here was a young man on the cusp of life, the gateway to independence, the first step towards manhood. It was life-altering for him, yet it was just another random Monday for everyone else in the room.

The kid carefully placed the newly minted license in his wallet and put the wallet back in his pants pocket. He paused just a nanosecond to adjust to the new feel.

As he made his way across the room he had a look on his face like a guy who's just been told he was about to become a father for the first time...a realization of the burden of responsibility, of having crossed an invisible line, that things weren't going to be the same anymore. It took him by surprise, he didn't think he would feel any different, but he did. He was changed somehow. He was no longer a kid but a man. A man with responsibilities. They were weighing heavily on his mind.

I was proud of him. As I wiped away a tear I thought, "Congratulations kid. Be careful and Happy Birthday."

Twenty pairs of eyes silently sent out the same message. Twenty pairs of eyes understood they had just witnessed the solemn rite of passage of a kid to a responsible adult. Twenty pairs of eyes watched as he stretched out to open the heavy door for his grandfather. When he did, the bottom of his pants leg hitched up just a little bit. Twenty pairs of eyes saw it and erupted in laughter.

He had dressed the part, stood up straight, and minded his manners. He had tried to show the world he was an adult worthy of his newfound privilege and responsibility. But in the end twenty pairs of eyes saw he was still just a kid who wore white socks with suit pants.