Lesson the First: Check the calendar for holidays before planning your DMV visit. I went on Good Friday, which is apparently a holiday for every other office but mine. I had to burn a vacation day to queue up with the sea of humanity, weeping and gnashing their teeth. There truthfully was a lot of weeping. (More on that later.) I think the only person who had a worse Good Friday was Jesus.
More than half a day at the DMV will also break you.
Lesson the Second: Bring something to keep you entertained (e.g., a smart phone, Kindle, book, brightly colored abacus). By Hour Three (BEFORE I WAS EVEN INSIDE THE BUILDING) I was sending texts in broken English saying things like "I will kill... You don't even... Screaming baby... Motherfucker behind me... Wear her rib cage as a helmet..."
Lesson the Third: Do not bring a child who can't be still and quiet for hours on end. In other words, don't bring a child. I didn't bring mine. You're welcome, everyone. To the several people who brought their SCREAMING small children — I will find you. Trust.
Lesson the Fourth: If you are an emo teen who fails the written test, this is not something to cry about. The crying quota had already been met earlier in the morning by all the babies, toddlers, and preschoolers. Your tears and rending of your shirt are not necessary. If you can't identify a stop sign in a line of objects, you don't need to be on the road. Nut up.
Lesson the Fifth: Take out your mothertrucking headphones once you finally make it inside the Promised Land. It makes the deputy very, very angry when he has to repeat his instructions fifty times. You know who he takes his anger out on? The person behind you. Who's always the person behind you? Me. Fuck you.
Lesson the Sixth: Your photo will only be a head shot. There's no reason to dress like a hooker with your skirt cut up to your hot pocket. I'm talking to you, all the teen girls ever.
"All right, Mr. DeMille, we're ready for our close-up."
The last lesson is for the DMV employees. I get that you hate your job. This isn't a novel feeling. There's no reason to be a complete and utter raging douchebag cockface. Comments like "How old is this picture?" are not appreciated. And for the love of all that is holy and sparkly, do NOT ask a question right as you are snapping the picture. I now have a glassy-eyed, slack-jawed photo mouthing half the word "yes" for the next twelve years. Retaking the photo apparently goes against all the laws of nature, and the mere request to click the little button a second time is highly offensive. Further comments like "You'll like the photo better when it's in color" are also not helpful. Will you like my foot better when it's up your ass? I doubt it. Thus endeth the lesson.
How about you? Everyone has to have a good DMV story, except for JJ, who basically has a mini DMV visit on her daily public transportation commute.