The next stop was the DMV
(or rather, the BMV since Maine likes to do things differently). If all went according to plan, I could
register my car, get a license, and register to vote. I took a number and it only took a moment to
realize that I would be there for a while; my number was 174 and they called 125
shortly after I arrived. Thank heaven
for a smart phone. I killed nearly an
hour reading Facebook updates and catching up on Words With Friends. I considered going home and trying another
time, but the longer I stayed the more I felt I had to stay. I ransacked my purse and found my emergency
granola bar.
My number was called around
3:30—nearly two hours after I arrived—and I raced to the window the second I
heard it. We took care of the registration
first and then the license. I wrote him
a check, then started to write my new license number on my voter registration
form. But as I did so, my head began to
spin. And I had the sudden overwhelming
feeling that I was going to vomit. I was
so close to leaving this land of limbo—I knew I just had to hold on for a
couple more minutes but I wasn’t sure I could.
I put my head in my hands and the clerk asked me if I was alright. I told him that I really wasn’t feeling well. (You know it’s bad if I’m being that honest
with a stranger.) He continued processing
my paperwork then asked me again if I was okay.
I answered, “No.” He started to
come around the counter and the next thing I knew I was on the floor with four or five strangers
around me, and the BMV clerk was offering to call an ambulance.
I have no recollection of
how I went from standing to sitting but I heard later that the clerk and
another customer caught me. When I came
to, a lovely woman named Paige was rubbing my back and giving me Vitamin
Water. A few minutes later I realized
that I was drinking from someone else’s bottle, and I didn’t even care. Paige assured me that I had no need to be
embarrassed because we’ve all been there.
As nice as she was, I’ve got to wonder what her experience has been like. Several people jokingly asked the clerk
what he did to me, while a customer informed me I had made his wait much more interesting. A supervisor from the
BMV insisted on bringing me cookies and again asked if I needed an
ambulance. After sitting on the floor
for five minutes, then in a chair for another ten, I went to have my picture taken. I really shouldn’t have been surprised that
it’s the absolute worst picture I’ve ever seen of myself, but at least this
time there’s an excuse and perhaps in time it will turn into an amusing memory.
If you’re looking for a
moral to this story, I offer:
- When donating blood, it’s a good idea to eat lunch.
- In a heat wave, it’s a good idea to stay hydrated.
- And finally, if you’re going to pass out in public, it’s a good idea to do it in Maine.
