I‘ve no choice. An hour ago, my hubster found out he’ll be away on business all week. My license has to be renewed and I do not want to drag my boys along with me. Ugh.
It’s lunchtime… on a Friday… at the end of the month, and I’m driving to the DMV. As I’m complaining to myself about the dreaded lines and sour faces, I suddenly stop. Why am I playing the victim? There’s power in our intentions. If I don’t want a rain dance, I’d better start imagining a sunny salsa. So, I ask my angels to help me get the party started at the DMV.
Maybe I’ll meet some great people. We’ll talk and laugh and the time will fly. “Wow, the line is moving so fast,” I’ll say. “Just look at how efficient and friendly the employees are. The DMV has never operated so beautifully!”
When I pull into the parking lot, my happy hula dashes on the pavement. The place is so packed that people are parking on the street. Yikes. I spy one parking place and zip in. I’m re-inspired. This is going to be good.
As a man and a woman walk in ahead of me, we smile at each other and mosey up to the same line. Soon enough, we are joking and laughing about all the paperwork we had to gather to prove our identity. The man comments on how quickly the long line is moving. The boogie has begun.
I glance over at the two women in charge of this first line. One is somber Sally who rarely looks up. The other looks like Joan Rivers; she’s animated and engaged. I’d rather rumba with her.
As the two new friends ahead of me land with Sally, I mambo up to Joan. “Hi!” I say with cheer. “Well, hello there, sweetheart! How are ya?” Joan asks. “I’m great, thanks! This line is moving so quickly, thanks to you.” “Just wait for the next line,” she warns.
“Well I can still hope!” I add with a laugh.
Joan is a hand-jive expert as she clips and flips my dance cards. “Okay, babe, head on over to the next line and wait to be called.”
“Wow,” I say as I leave, “you’re good – thank you so much!”
Before I get far, I hear a loud call. “JUL-I-A!” I turn to find Joan sashaying toward me. “Will you be paying with check, cash or credit?” she asks. “Oh credit,” I answer, as Joan and I move toward the counter where everyone wants to be. “Okay, doll, wait right over there,” Joan says, as she points toward the crowd, “You’ll be called in a few.”
That’s DMV lingo for an hour. I sit down next to a pale looking soul and ask how long she’s been waiting. “Forty-five minutes,” she drones and looks away. As I reach for my book, I hear the loud speaker: “JULIA BOND GENOVESE, line five please.”
I find line five. There’s no one in it. An employee with a disco smile asks for my Visa. She shuffles my papers and types away as I chat with a woman in the conga line next to me.
A minute later, I’m handed my Visa and my new license. I look up in shock. “Am I done?” “Yup,” she says with pearly pride. Whoa. It’s been only fifteen minutes.
As I watusi out the doors, I realize it must have been Joan. I feel as if she personally awarded me the Mirrorball Trophy. I drive home in amazement. My intention worked. I asked for fun and an angel two-stepped in.
Suddenly, I realize I didn’t thank Joan! I am a dance school drop-out, an ingrate! At home I grab a copy of my memoir, Nothing Short Of Joy, and start to write an inscription. To my DMV angel? I don’t know how to address her so I leave a space and head back to the DMV.
When I arrive, I see Joan and throw my arms wide and yell, “THANK YOU SO MUCH!” As we hug, I tell her that she gave me the most magical DMV experience ever. She whispers in my ear, “It’s a two hour wait today, sweetheart. I just couldn’t do it to you.”
We say goodbye, but as my spirit pirouettes toward the door, I hear a familiar call from my angel, “JUL-I-A!” As I turn toward her light, she throws a kiss and shouts, “God Bless you!”
Joan’s real name? It was Angela. Because even at the DMV, angels are always ready to dance.
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