behold the beauty of the DMV!

Sarah and I finally decided that it was about time to shed our California license plates and don the insignia of our new state, North Carolina (especially since we received a letter from California saying our registration there was void because we moved seven months ago). We had dreaded this moment ever since hearing the horror stories about Charlotte DMVs (supposedly much worse than other parts of the country). Our friend Megan said she stood in line for 3 hours with both of her young boys only to find out that her husband needed to be there too since there was an "and" in between their names on the title of the car and not an "or!" So our friends graciously volunteered to watch our kids so we could go it alone...quite a romantic date, I'd say!

We arrived in the small, crowded, hot, dimly lit office a little after 4:00. The line was quite long and there were no seats or take-a-number-and-wait systems. The rules are simple...stand in line and wait...and wait...and wait. A lot of our time was spent reading all of the makeshift signs around the place. No Credit Cards Accepted. Please be patient, several employees are out sick. Please be patient, new employees in training.

Then it was on to debate which of the 50 states had the nicest license plate. We chatted with the people around us including the girl who kept having to leave the line to check on her uncle with Alzheimer's who she was hoping wasn't trying to escape the car in the parking lot! Every now and then, sheer panic struck when I began thinking about the possibility we might not have all the documents required to get our license plate. We might have to do this all over again!

I glanced around at the people around. A clean-cut businessman wearing a nice suit. A tall, skinny man who reminded me of Bob Marley. A woman wearing a Pizza Hut uniform. A yuppie. People with uniforms bearing their names. Important-looking people. The thought finally hit me! This place is AMAZING. It is one of the few places in all of America where everyone is on the same playing field. It doesn't matter if you make six figures a year, or $600 a year. You have to wait in line at the DMV. This is the one last place where "who you know" can't really help you. It's beautiful.

After my revelation, we made it to the counter, submitted our forms, showed our documents, paid $225, and walked out with a small piece of metal and a large sense of accomplishment!