DMV Pose

October 17, 2004

Last week I was dreading having to go to the Vehicle Inspection Station and then to the DMV for my car registration. I guess I'm a creature of habit. The last time I registered a car it was a long, drawn out, painful and annoying experience in Kansas City, Missouri. Like Pavlov's Dog, ringing the DMV Bell sends me into anxious fits of whining and drooling.

On Wednesday, I lamented about my upcoming sure-to-be AWFUL experience in yoga class. My teacher, a very calm and poised woman who is also a counselor, looked at me and said, "I have recently heard the DMV is much better than it used to be – so be open to finding a reasonable experience there rather than seeking a stressful one."

Yoga teachers! They're so damn optimistic, aren't they? Don't they understand the importance of whining? It must be easy to stay hopeful... stretching one's ligaments all day while standing in Downward Dog Pose. What could she possibly know? ;-)

I began the trip completely prepared. I had the title, license, bill of sale, ummm.. couldn't find my registration, and was hoping they'd "forget" to ask me for it, and my insurance card. I even had a printed copy of the DMV-provided directions as I headed out to Southeast DC in my MINI Cooper, (aka Go–Go Girl).

Failing to review the printed directions proved to be a sad miscalculation on my part. I ended up driving straight through downtown in the pouring RAIN. It took an hour and 15 minutes to get all the way across town to the inspection station. I missed an exit too, which rendered my printed directions practically useless as I circled around and around in a somewhat spooky area of DC. Still, this wasn't anyone's fault but my own... I simply didn't know where the heck I was going.

I arrived at around 2:30 and the line of cars ahead of me was minimal. As I sat in the car listening to belly dance music, I took a picture of one of the lovely vehicles ahead of me....

... and concluded the owner was pretty optimistic to even show up. Hey! Maybe he's a yoga teacher too! I also decided I should be much more grateful for owning such a totally cool and creative automobile. How lucky am I?

At approximately 2:55, I relinquished the Go–Go Girl to the government inspector guy, who seemed really happy that he'd be driving her in a straight line down the track for the next 200 yards or so. He directed me to go into the building, down the long hallway, and stand in Warrior Pose until my car popped out. I took a couple of snapshots through the window and then proceeded to the designated "Popping Out" area.

As I stood outside waiting for the orange sticker to be slapped onto my windshield, a Volvo owner struck up a converstaion with me. The Go–Go Girl is a good conversation–starter, expecially in situations where people are thinking about cars and desperately looking for something to talk about. People frequently ask me how I like my MINI, and of course I say "I LOVE IT!" We even talked long enough for me to comment on the six airbags and it's 4–star safety rating.

Once I was finished drooling over my own car, Volvo–Woman started to bitch and moan about how LONG it was taking, and, "What's WRONG with these government workers? They're so LAZY. They finished the inspection 5 minutes ago! How LONG can it POSSIBLY take to print out a STOOPID STICKER??"

She sort of sounded like the whiney yoga student that was ME just 3 day before, and I immediately sympathized with her anxiety... they weren't exactly moving quickly. Interestingly enough, instead of jumping into Bitch-Land with her I said, "You know what? A few days ago I was complaining to my yoga teacher about having to come here today, and she suggested that looking for a bad experience would probably lead to finding one."

As she listened to me, her eyes softened a little bit. "Yeah... that's a better way of looking at the world," she said, but threw in a half-hearted, "I guess..." followed by more frowning.

"Oh, this is way better than the Kansas City DMV," I said, and proceeded to share the MINI Tudor story with her, which left both of us laughing and actually sort of enjoying ourselves within a couple of minutes. Before I knew it, the Magic Sticker Guy emerged with, you guessed it, a magic sticker. After sticking it to the windshield, he gave me a piece of paper and told me to proceed to the DMV for my tags.

"I don't I have to go back inside and wait in line?" I asked.

"Nope," he replied.

"I don't have to PAY for something?" I persisted,

He shook his head at me.

"There must be some sort of suffering involved," I joked, "I mean, this is the DC Department of Motor Vehicles, right?"

He laughed while wiping some grease off his forehead, "No Ma'am, you're free to go! Get in that cute car of yours and just GO!"

Speeding out of the driveway, I momentarily weighed my future as a yoga instructor. Volvo-Woman smiled and waved as they decorated her windshield with her own magic sticker. I felt as though I had made a difference in her day, and felt better myself for having done so. Who would have ever thought that standing in DMV Pose for over an hour could stretch out my spiritual ligaments, leaving me more flexible than ever before?

DMV Pose

October 17, 2004

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