After 8 years in Washington DC, its about time for me to trade in my old Florida Drivers License for a shiny new DC one. And that means a DC DMV experience.

The last time I was at the DMV it was years ago at the decrepit C street location (now closed) and I was fighting a traffic ticket. Luckily, I had all day to do the DMV Dance as I was unemployed. Today I do not have that luxury but at the same time the DC DMV seems to have changed.

The Georgetown location looks clean and the lines are moving fast. Oops, I typed that too fast. 30 minutes later, I am still awaiting an appointment.

And in that appointment I had a friendly disagreement with the clerk over the need for a Social Security number with me arguing that DC is backward for requiring one as proof of identity when a passport should be the only requirement.

No matter who is right, I do need a photo on my license and here is where DC DMV is going all Kafka on my ass. The photo machine is broken.

All the good will of the clean space and pert clerks is quickly slipping away as the line grows longer. And longer. And those of us who wait start to fidget as the day, parking meter time, and patience slips into the past at the DC DMV.

This post appeared in its original form at DC Metblogs

Married, mortgaged, and soon to be a father, Wayan Vota is in the fast lane to mid-life respectability – until the day his brood finds his intimate journal of global traveling and curses him with the ever-eternal reply “I’m gonna be just like you, Dad!”

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