I show up 3 minutes after the doors open, and stilL get B011— about a 30 minute wait by my estimate. If one were to take wagures, they’d never guess that the department of motor vehicles would welcome the most interesting people in the world. But it does. In walks the guy who’s probably a volunteer soccer coach, with his worn in kangaroo leather shoes and tight buzz cut. His hands are thick and worn in the fashion of a day laborer. He’s followed by a chain wearing couple whose clothing motif seems to revolve around skulls. I wonder what would bring such hoodlums to so ordinary a venue. And they begin to sign elegantly to each other with a comfortable familiarity and tenderness. I wonder what this experience is like for someone who cannot hear the constant drone and repetition of call numbers, or the light sasfarilla of Michael Bolton in the background. These details make me feel a deep heavy feeling, that might be love mingled with sadness for the difficulty of so many lives. I could also just be hungry, because it’s quite early. The guy behind window 9 waves whenever someone is called to his station, a slow mixing motion that reminds me of pagaentry. I think he likes when his window is called. “now serving B zero one one”, at window number 4.