What Happens at the DMV

You don't need to keep checking your watch, I reprimand myself as I look at my watch for the hundredth time. It's not going to make the line move any faster.

I hate the DMV. But then again, I don't know anyone who can claim to love it.

The guy directly in front of me has a little boy with him, maybe five or six years old, who keeps ducking in and out of the line underneath the crowd control barrier.

He ducks back under and bumps into my leg.

"Oopsie," I comment.

His dad turns around, exasperated.

"Be careful, Dustin," he chides his son. "Apologize to the lady."

"Sorry," the little boy mumbles.

"No harm done," I assure his father. Looking directly at the boy I add, "I know. This is super boring, isn't it?"

"Yeah," he agrees.

"I know," his father sighs. "Not exactly a fun Saturday activity." He runs one hand self-consciously through his rust colored hair and gives me a somewhat embarrassed grimace. "I kind of forgot my Driver's Licence expires in three days. My ex always complains that I procrastinate too much. Guess she's right."

"You said we were gonna get ice cream!" Dustin whines.

"Right after this," his dad replies.

"But this is gonna take a hundred million hours! The ice cream place is gonna be closed when we're done!"

"Oh, I bet it'll still be open," I chip in, hoping I'm not overstepping my bounds. Not everyone appreciates a complete stranger talking to their child. "Ice cream sounds good. What's your favorite kind, Dustin? Your name's Dustin, right?"

"Yeah. I like chocolate peanut butter."

"That sounds good. My favorite is strawberry with rainbow sprinkles."

"Grownups like sprinkles?" Dustin's grey eyes are open very wide.

"Well, I do," I answer him. "What's your dad's favorite ice cream?"

Dustin glances back and forth between his father and myself with his eyebrows furrowed. "I...I don't know."

"I usually try something different every time," his father states with a grin. "Dustin's mom never understood why I would do that. She never orders anything but vanilla."

"Well, that's..." don't say it, Candace, don't say it.

"Boring," Dustin and his father finish my sentence for me in almost perfect unison.

I laugh in agreement.

"My name's Paul, by the way," Dustin's father introduces himself.

"Candace," I reply.

"You're really good with kids. Do you have any?"

"No. I'm a teacher, actually. Second grade."

Paul takes a step forward as the line moves a fraction of an inch.

"And do you usually hang around the DMV on your weekends?" I can't tell if he's flirting with me or just chatting to pass the time.

"Oh yeah, of course," I match his facetious tone. "That's what I do for fun."

Dustin is staring at me like I'm crazy.

Paul laughs.

"I just bought a new car," I tell him. "Well, a new used car, anyway. I'm here to register it."

"Convertible?" Paul questions. "You'd look good in a convertible. I mean, um, I can picture you in a convertible with your hair, um, you know, in the wind..." his voice trails off as he once again runs a hand through his hair. He's definitely flirting with me, albeit in a painfully awkward manner. It's kind of cute, actually.

"On a teacher's salary?" I laugh. "No, it's a Hyundai Elantra."

"Oh, good choice. Hyundais are good cars."

For what seems like a long time Paul just stands there looking at me, as though he would like to continue our conversation but isn't quite sure how to proceed.

"Dad, move up!" Dustin tugs on his hand.

Paul glances down at his son, slightly confused, then shuffles forward a few steps to catch up with the rest of the line. Embarrassed, he drags his hand through his hair again. 

To be honest, I hadn't noticed the line moving either.

I peek at my watch again as Paul and Dustin walk up to the counter. I've been here almost two hours so far. Ugh.

Once I have collected the paperwork I need to fill out I walk over to the little kiosk where they sell popcorn and hot dogs and other bad-for-you snack options. After debating with myself for a few seconds I step into the line. Why not? If I'm going to spend my Saturday at the DMV then I deserve to cheat on my diet.

As I walk up and down the aisles looking for an empty seat I hear someone call my name.

I glance around to see Paul waving at me. There is one of those elusive empty seats next to him, and I find myself wondering if he saved it for me on purpose.

"You got popcorn," Dustin observes when I sit down. "Can I have some?"

"That's Candace's," Paul admonishes him.

"Please," Dustin adds quickly, assuming that being polite justifies asking a stranger to share their food.

"Dust..."

"It's okay," I cut Paul off. I hold the red and white striped box out to Dustin and he takes a handful of popcorn.

"You want some?" I offer it to Paul. He glances up from the form he's filling out and takes a couple pieces with a smile.

"I thought we were almost done. Why are we still waaaaaiiiiting," Dustin complains after a few minutes of sitting and watching his dad and me fill out our forms.

"Why don't we play a game," I suggest. "Let's go through the alphabet and we each think of a word that starts with each letter. You go first, Dustin. Then your dad, then me."

"Okay!" Dustin agrees. "A-Apple."

"A-Airplane," Paul chips in.

"A-Ant."

"B-Ball."

"B-Bird."

"B-Bakery."

"C-Candy."

"C-Child."

I pause to swallow a mouthful of popcorn. "C-Cow."

"D-Dog."

Paul looks up from his form to make eye contact with me. "D-Date?"

"D-Definitely," I state without a second thought.

"E-Excellent!"

"Dad! It's my turn! You messed up the turns!"

"Sorry, sorry. What's your E word?"

"E-Egg," Dustin mumbles, sounding a little sulky.

"E-Elephant," I say.

"Who's turn is it now?" Dustin wonders. "Dad messed up the turns now I don't know who's supposed to go!"

"Everyone makes mistakes sometimes," I point out, slipping into 'teacher mode'. "It's still your turn first, then your dad's, then mine."

"Okay. Um...F-Fart!"

Paul sighs and shakes his head as his son giggles.

By the time we're halfway through the alphabet I can tell that Dustin is growing bored with the game. The word he comes up with for N is 'Nothing'.

"N-Number?" Paul once again makes direct eye contact with me, both of his reddish eyebrows slightly raised.

It takes me a few moments to think of an appropriate response that starts with N. The longer my silence stretches out the more uncomfortable Paul looks. I can understand why he's nervous. After all, words like 'No' and 'Never' start with the letter N, and I'm pretty sure that's what's going through his mind right now.

I finally settle on "N-Naturally."

"O-Outstanding!"

"Dad! You messed up the turns again! I don't want to play anymore!"

"We don't have to," I assure Dustin.

Paul is called up to the next available window just as I pull my notepad out of my purse to write my phone number down.

Well, that's that, I think to myself a little bitterly. The one who got away. If only I'd taken the initiative to give him my number earlier!

Once I've finally gotten my car registered I open the door and walk outside.

Paul and Dustin are standing right by the door.

"Hey, Candace," Paul says, "Dustin was wondering...well, both of us were wondering," he pauses to drag his hand uncertainty through his hair, "would you want to go get ice cream with us? Strawberry with rainbow sprinkles? My treat."

"A-Absolutely!" I grin.