The DMV. Soul-Crushing Black Hole of Desperateness. But I'm Not Bitter...

Revisiting some past sketchbooks yielded this image. It makes me weep. And grit my teeth. (Not unlike that moment in which I discover that the DSW Shoe Outlet coupon I've been hoarding has expired.) On this particular morning the line to be admitted to the interior space of the DMV actually wound around the exterior of the building. We were let inside in waves. Once admitted, the inner sanctum yielded a vast wasteland of thinly padded chairs, cranky patrons, and crankier employees. Good times!