I Blame the Bureaucracy

Like so many moves before this one, I’ve been in the midst of the minutia.  Utilities and boxes and whatnot.  Yesterday was set to be my favorite kind of day: productive.  I had a late breakfast around 10:30, then headed out to donate blood.  After donating, I ate a cookie and drank an extra bottle of water, then headed on my way.  First stop was city hall to pay the excise tax on my car (is it just me, or does excise tax sound like something over which our entire nation revolted?).

 

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.