17. The DMV: A rainbow of gene pools

Dan sat and fidgeted with impatience. He glanced down at his number. G280. Another quick check of the monitor hanging from the ceiling revealed that they were currently serving G197. He tried his best not to whimper out loud. That would be the twentieth time he had glanced at the monitor over the last half hour. He had only been in the building holding a number for that long, the previous couple of hours were spent standing in line, waiting to get a number. He tried to return his attention to his dog-eared copy of Pillars Of The Earth, but he couldn't focus with all the noise.

Besides it's status as National Monument of Inefficiency, the most striking thing about the DMV to Dan was the range of people. Anyone and everyone, whether rich or poor, smart or slow, disabled or healthy all had to go to the DMV sometimes. Most of us anyway, Dan thought.

Here is the Beverly Hills housewife with her ridiculous, tiny dog in a pink purse designed for carrying dogs. Animals aren't allowed inside, so she's trying to be discreet, but the dog is clearly spoiled, and having none of it.

There is the high-powered business man, a person who considers himself so busy, that over the course of the three hours Dan has been around him, his phone and wireless earpiece have not been given one break of more than a few seconds. Nevermind that everyone forced to sit clustered by him in thier uncomfortable plastic chairs are all giving him sidelong glances of annoyance and contempt, their comfort matters little to men such as he.

And right across from Dan is a woman of about five feet tall who easily weighs 400 lbs. Her height and width were nearly the same, making her appear nearly spherical, and her calves bulged out wider than her shoes were long. She struggled mightily to walk the 10 paces from the door, and lowered herself into the too-small chair with great effort. Once settled in she let a great sigh that sent a wave of terrible breath right into Dan's face. Dan tried to be politely discreet with his reaction, but a cough managed to squeak by. She glared momentarily at him, and promptly fell into a deep sleep. Apparently carrying around all that extra weight was tiring. Go figure. Her thunderous snores startled everyone in the immediate vicinity.

From Dan's left came a piercing shriek, and politeness or no, Dan could not hide his wince. Seated next to Dan was a grandmother, her daughter and grandchild. The three-year old was strapped into his stroller and clamouring for his mother's Iphone. The mother kept trying to shoosh him in vain, but the screams kept coming. "Hold on, sweetie. Mommy needs to check her email." More squeals of protest. "Okay, okay, here. Just be quiet" she said as she handed over the Iphone. Screaming stopped, and the child smiled and began poking the screen. Dan had to sit on the urge to smack his forehead in disgust. If that were my mother and grandmother, Dan thought, that is not how that would have played out. Grandma would have slapped me, and mom would have taken me outside until I stopped making noise, to spare these people the screaming.

Dan had no kids, and had no plans to have them in the near future, but it seemed like more and more these days parents' main strategy with a screaming child is to placate them by giving them whatever they want. That can't be the right way to go. Just last night, in the middle of a nice, classy restaurant, Dan had been out on a date and the table next to his let their children literally run circles around the restaurant. They would laugh and squeal with joy, and if the parents came to stop them, they would throw tantrums and scream as though they were being murdered, so the parents would give up, and sit back down. Dan wasn't sure who to hate more, the parents, or the manager for not asking them to leave. Every other table in the restaurant looked murderous. I didn't come here and pay $18 a plate to listen to this crap, is what they were all thinking.

Dan had been raised with discipline. He had somehow been a brat anyway, and threw more than his fair share of tantrums, but that wasn't the point. Dan's parents never caved in the face of a tantrum. Never. Dan couldn't imagine the kind of man he would have grown up into if his parents had taught him this sense of entitlement that these other kids seem to have today. The real world doesn't just give you something because you piss and moan about it. These kids are in for some harsh lessons when they strike out on their own.

Just then, a very pretty little 4 year-old girl to Dan's right began to disobey her mother. They were visibly of latin descent and speaking spanish to each other. The girl wanted to get rid of her gum because it had lost it's taste, and kept reaching her tiny hand into her mouth to fish it out. The mother gently pulled her hand down and said "no" twice, but when the girl tried a third time, she gripped her daughter's wrist firmly, pulled her closer til their faces were nearly touching and whispered in a firm voice something that Dan could not hear. With that, the girl nodded, walked over to the trash bin and spit the gum into the trash, without putting her hands in her mouth. Nice. Dan had been told by all his Mexican friends, that their mother's had been strict disciplinarians, but he had never seen it in action. He smiled broadly. His faith in the next generation was restored.