I went to the DMV again today. Last time I went was 6 weeks ago when we moved to North Carolina. That day I woke up before the sun and made sure I had all of the paperwork I needed. I brought everything from my passport to my secret family recipe for Italian marinara sauce. If they needed proof of who I was, that was it. That day I went after spending 2 hours on my hair, getting a spray tan 2 days earlier, and 2 weeks after some fresh Botox. I was ready for my drivers license picture. I looked good. That day I showed up to an empty parking lot at the DMV and thought I had won the lottery. That day I was turned away at the door by an official North Carolina DMV employee wearing his uniform shirt stretched to the max showing his thinning white T-shirt underneath between each button and a neck tie the size of the one my son wore to his preschool graduation. He wouldn’t let me in. I didn’t have an appointment and that was a no-no according to the governor. But there was no one there. But I was ready for my headshot. I looked good, remember? No bueno. I went back to my car and typed in a DMV website called skipthelineNC into my phone and made an appointment for today. My lucky day. Today I got up 30 minutes before my appointment, I had a 23 minute drive. Today I forgot my passport and recipe but had my old license and found my new NC car insurance info stuffed into my glove box. It would have to do. Today I looked tired and pale, my hair was growing by the minute in the humidity. I haven’t dyed it lately. Today I showed up on time, sort of. The parking lot was full. I mean not one open spot. The line was wrapped halfway around the outside of the building. I parked in front of a dumpster and ignored the sign warning me not to. Anyone that saw my hair would know not to question my decisions today. I hustled to the front of the line since, you know, I had an appointment even though I was a teensy bit late. I was directed to go to the back of the line and wait with all of the other people in line that also had an appointment. Why was the website literally titled “skip the line”? My hair and I trudged to the back of the line and waited. And waited. 45 minutes later we reached the door. Once inside we waited some more and then were given the number A192. The current number on the screen being helped was A188. Then they called A196 then A197. The lady next to me was holding A180. The system was weird. Eventually my number was called and I went to counter number 3. I told the lady I used to live here so she looked me up and verified my information from before. Did I still have brown eyes? Uh yah. Brown hair? Sort of. I stopped her before she told me what my weight was. I told her that I didn’t want to know. That was 18 years ago. A lifetime, plus I thought I was fat then and I’m way bigger now. I had another baby. I haven’t run in a few years, Takis were invented since then. She waited until I stopped talking before patiently telling me that they don’t include weight on driver’s licenses anymore. I told her well that’s just fine it doesn’t really matter to me anyway. Clearly. She took my picture, a close up so my hair in it’s entirety wasn’t included, printed out a temporary copy and sent me on my way. I’m sure she was happy to see me go. On my way out I heard A164 being called. I shook my giant hair and thought, it’s just another day at the DMV.