It was that time of year again when I had to make the grueling visit to the BMV to renew my registrations for my cars. It’s never a pleasant experience but this year it was an eye-opener.
As suspected the line was long but this time it was very slow. A lot slower than past years, much slower in fact. As I stood in line waiting my turn I got to looking around the room at all of the different people.
Standing at the counter were 5 men which all seemed to be upset and arguing with the person trying to help them. Three were speaking what I think was some foreign language from Africa one was speaking with a heavy accent in French. And one was trying to interpret for them, the poor joker could hardly speak English.
From what I could gather they were trying to get a drivers license and could not understand that they needed to take a test before being issued a license. I was in line for 45 minutes and these jokers were still there when I left.
Standing in line was a Muslim woman wearing her Muslim garb. Off to the side sitting down in a chair was a Muslim Cleric. He would get up ever so often and go speak to the Muslim woman.
Standing right behind me was a Latino and his wife that spoke very little English. As it turned out he was a pretty nice guy that even with his broken English was able to hold a decent conversation. Turned out he and his wife were from Guatemala.
Ahead of me in line was a young guy talking on his cell. He was trying to score some weed. These young kids today like to talk loud on their cells. This guy didn’t even need a cell he was talking so loud.
Now behind the counter was a treat, always is. Seems that the BMV must only hire people out of rehab or fresh out of the mental ward of some hospital. One particular worker caught my eye. I think he was from Sandaistan or close to it. This joker could hardly speak English and was waving people over to his station that was just coming in. Yep, jumping line. Now I know why they don’t allow firearms at the BMV.
So, this is the new America folks. Maybe it’s not as bad at it first looks, then maybe again it’s worse. I must have looked out of place standing there in a pair of Levis, a pair of Fry boots wearing a fisherman’s sweater sporting a Boston Scally Cap with an empty Shoulder Holster.