ADOT DMV

 It was time. Not by the numbers on our licenses. Not by the expiration date on Steve's handicap placard. Our driver's licenses don't expire till April, and the placard not until August, when we expect to be out of state and unable to renew it. But Steve wants to drive, and he can't on his old license.

Both his eyes had cataract surgery last year. That means he doesn't need glasses any more to see in the distance clearly. His license says otherwise, so if he's ever pulled over for anything, he'd be in violation of his license. He can't wear glasses because they would "correct" what no longer needs fixing, i.e.,  they would blur the world for him. So if he obeys the law he's no longer fit to drive safely. The solution is simple, of course: get a new license now and have his new vision checked. (He's got his reading glasses since that's the only correction he needs any more and wouldn't let anything get in the way of his reading.)

There have been roadblocks. Covid effectively closed the DMV buildings a long while ago. Every thing possible was done online. No eye checks that way. A couple buildings were left open but required both a long drive and (a pair of) appointments. With covid spreading all around like this is Arizona or something - which it is, second worst county in the whole country both for cases and deaths - we put off a public visit. I'm still available to drive anywhere needed after all. 

I frequently drive past the closest DMV and noted a couple months back that their parking lot was again full. They were open! Still, we put it off. Steve looked for locations on the internet and their info still says everything is closed unless we want a very long drive. So there was more discussion but no action. Till today. Steve finally decided it was time. As a bonus, while I was checking into locations to make extra sure (including a phone call) I discovered AZ has a new policy that the permanent handicap placards are now printed with no expiration dates.  Permanent now actually means no more doctor visits just to renew one after 4 or 5 years or whatever a particular state requires. While I qualified for one for enough years to renew mine once, I no longer need one. Steve has had the medical procedures that have shown to everybody's satisfaction that he will continue to need his. It was finally time. And luckily today was a day I wasn't needed in the club. However, I did have a visit with my doctor this morning first. This has the advantage - or not, depending on your point of view- of providing an accurate weight for things like deciding how truthful to be on your newest license.

There was a handicap spot open in their parking lot when we drove in. We couldn't use it. The placard to keep us from being ticketed while there had to be taken in as Steve's proof that he qualified for the truly permanent replacement. Luckily there was a regular parking spot close to it. 

Once inside the lines were long. We were directed to stop inside the door and take a ticket, pushing one of three different buttons. The first was us: no appointment. The second was if we had an appointment. Turns out that line was actually short, but obscured from sight by all in the drop-in line. The third? I can't remember but it wasn't us either. I grabbed a ticket, found three of the four chairs open for people needing them to sit on, and since nobody else was waiting, Steve and I sat together. I asked Steve his number, to verify his was the one after mine, but he thought I'd gotten two tickets. So I walked back to get him one, now about 8 numbers away from mine. 

Turned out it didn't matter. An employee walked by, noticed we were together in the chairs, Steve holding his placard, and went to the machine and got us - as a unit -a completely different number. We would be called in the order that came up in relation to the other people at the time she pulled it, but we could keep sitting and not have to shuffle through 45 minutes of moving line. She assured us their system kept track. And they did.

We watched about 15 people go through a door to our side. Their badges indicated they were employees and the brown bags or lunch boxes, in addition the the time, indicated it was their lunch break. The line didn't seem to slow. In fact, it kept getting shorter while we sat. I would have thought that lunchtime was a time when more people would file in. Hmmm. 

One person of note was an Air Force captain. Steve managed to get up long enough to go over and chat with him briefly, including his usual "Thanks for your service." His uniform gave extra meaning to "cargo pants", pockets running the full length of his trousers. The thing that really stood out in the line wasn't the size, the speed of movement, or the attire, uniform or not. (Except for one woman with verrrrry interesting leggings with fishnet cutouts. I checked, and yes, Steve definitely noticed those too!) What stood out was what they weren't wearing, other than maybe 10%of them. Masks.

I was wearing one, Steve was wearing one, about a fifth of the employees were wearing one. A casual glance would seem to indicate the pandemic was over.  That, or as previously noted, this was AZ. We had to take our masks off twice. Once was to demonstrate our vision by reading a card of random letters. The noise level was high, and the employee was working with reading our lips as much as hearing what we were saying. The second time was for our horrible pictures.

I do mean horrible! Steve's eyes were wide open with large black irises. Note: his eyes are hazel. We joked afterwards that he looked like a serial killer or maybe was on something. I thought mine would be better than the last time since my face was thinner. Some of the 30 pounds lost since the last lie for my weight had to come from the face, and I'd even checked in the mirror before heading out the door to verify it looked better. When they gave me the photocopy with my mug shot on it, I didn't recognize myself! My face was shorter and wider that it's ever been in my life! That didn't stop it from showing all kids of wrinkles, with the end result making me look line a 75-yer-old man!  Yes, a man! Even Steve agreed. On the drive home we speculated that distortion would prevent any facial recognition software from picking me out. Much of that - at least as far as I can follow how it works on TV - is features in relation to other features, and if I'm stretched sideways, who knows? Maybe I better hang on to the old license, just in case?

But we got everything done that needed to be, our old placard and licenses haven't expired yet so we can wait patiently for the new ones in the mail, and have the photocopies for any possible questions. Well other than is that really me? And is Steve a serial killer? (I've seen him kill off a bowl of cereal in short order, particularly Cheerios. Does that count?)

Speaking of waiting for things patiently to arrive in the mail, remember that concealed carry permit I was supposed to receive around Christmas time? Maybe New Years since they're kinda slow these days. It's still not here. A couple weeks ago I even called Shooter's World to find out what I needed to do to check on it or perhaps re-file the paperwork or whatever. The fairly brusk answer was just wait. Still. I must have been bothering them with my single question. The class is taught, the money paid, so Yawn. Bye. Click.

I'll definitely hang onto the paperwork from today.