Today I went to get my license renewed at the “License Express” center on 34th Street and Eighth Avenue. After getting my new photograph and eye test, I received a number (B170) for the check-out counter: they were currently on B122, which so much for the express part. I settled in to wait, and listened to a guy express surprise at his number. “There aren’t even that many people in here,” he said, to which the woman behind the counter sighed/replied, “yeah, everyone says that.” Which at least made me feel happy that I had only thought it, instead of plaguing her with something she’s heard a million times.
I decided that rather than wait around for what I expected to be at least an hour, I would walk to my office, which was five long blocks away on Madison, so that I could at least get my computer up and running and check my e-mail. It was a stupid idea, in all honesty, but once started, I felt compelled to see it through, even though I knew it was going to be a mistake. Sometimes you have to live with your decisions.
As it turned out, I got back 45 minutes later, just as B171 was being called. Ugh. I asked for a new number, and was given a completely different letter of the alphabet, which made me think I was really in for an eternal wait. Then I watched the eye-testing woman take pity on an older man who clearly couldn’t read the chart (or speak English) with his glasses on or off, and felt relieved that I was no longer driving on a regular basis. My number was called a few seconds later, and I realized that the woman who had given it to me had put me in a special and shorter line, which I didn’t deserve, but made me feel like bad decisions or not, everything had turned out for the best.
