It was that time again and the letter that I held in my hands only confirmed that it was necessary that I enter into the place where time seemed to stand still. My body was immobilized at the thought of having to enter into that place of seemingly endless fog, but it was the law of the land and there was no escaping it.

  Who would have thought that one's birthday could bring such dread? Yes, even though it was every other year, it was an event that even the bravest and most courageous person wished to avoid. Wanting to have the inevitable far behind me, I donned my rain slicker and started the journey to the dreaded place.

  When I arrived, I was greeted by lines of people that extended outside the heavy glass doors emblazoned with an ornate government symbol. I was thankful that I had put on my rain slicker. I didn't want the indignity of having to stand in the rain getting soaked before entering the inner sanctum of the place where time stops.

  The people who waited in the eternal lines were islands amongst themselves, each clutching official papers. Each person in line bore the mask of boredom covering a seething anger at a system that required their presense in this building that seemed filled with the fog of endlessness. No one spoke save to murmur a curse under their breath. An eerie silence punctuated by the sound of an official rubber stamp filled the building.

  The "little gods" who worked in an official capacity behind the Official Counters, schooled in rudeness and disorganization, were mirthless and discourteous people who were rewarded for their "services" with excellent pay and government pensions.
They moved agonizingly slow and considered the "line people" to be the enemy. When one of the enemy was caught with an error  on their paper work or in the wrong line, the "little gods" derived great pleasure in banishing "the line person" to the back of the longest line. In fact, it made their day.

  After what seemed like days of moving forward step by step, inch by inch, it was finally my turn to present my official papers to the "little god" who stood before me behind the Official Counter. As I approached  the "little god" who had slitted eyes and evil grin, she placed the "Closed" sign on the Official Counter in front of her.

  "YOU will have to go to the back of that line over there!" she bellowed as spit dribbled from the corner of her mouth and down her chin.

  Cackling laughter issued forth from her mouth as her mammoth form jiggled from head to foot like a mound of jello. Humbled before my peers, I slowly shuffled to the back of the next line as everyone averted their eyes or looked at the papers that they held in their hands. Cob webs had formed over the occupants of my new line and I had to scatter some of them from my path lest I be caught up in them.

  Minutes before the Official Counters were to close, my official papers were processed, my picture was taken by the "Official Camera That Captures Your Evil Side" and a sense of freedom and joy overtook me as I fled from the Department of Motor Vehicles. With my renewed driver's license in hand, I swore to myself that in 2005, I will use the mail-in form.