Oh good christ, this is why I’m NEVER moving my car from MI to PA in any legal fashion. I may only spend two weeks a year at my parents, but my car lives there, I swear.
Michigan, you see, likes cars. PennDOT, I think, hates them and thier owners.
I wonder, could you have gone to another county’s offices? I believe in NJ you can go to any MVS office, you don’t have to go to the one in the county in which you reside.
Maybe you could have gone to one of the less crowded PA counties. Something way out west, perhaps. It might have been easier. Of course, it also might not have.
Hey, when you’re done with the PDOT, would you mind coming down to Richmond to take care of the American Airlines employees who refused to let me on a plane Canada when I was using documents from the US Department of State website, which AA themselves linked from their OWN FUCKING WEBSITE!
Sorry. I’m still a little bitter about losing a day of my vacation because they don’t have their shit together. So I completely understand and sympathize with your frustration here.
Ava
We’ve had to deal with registering cars in NH, MA, MD, VA, and now DC. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had to use every ounce of my strength to keep from launching myself over the counter at a DMV troll. DMV employees revel in the pain they cause. They are laughing at us.
All except for in VA. I transferred my license and registration at the Tysons Corner branch in less than 15 minutes one morning, and I left with a smile on my face. Of course, at that time, VA’s requirements were so lax that several of the 9/11 terrorists were able to acquire false ID cards in that state, so maybe it wasn’t such a great system after all. :o
My favorite lines.
Priceless.
Outstanding Rant!
It should be nominated for Teemings!
Wonderful. Extraordinary. I’m glad that I wasn’t drinking or eating anything while reading this. It’s not to be nominated for the teeming. This is a sho in. Best rant this year. Extra marks for great metaphors.
Looking for an update (or, possibly, a still-moist spleen) from the hands of the OP this morning…
Wow, I must be DMV blessed or something. I got my first license in Iowa with just the piece of paper saying that I had passed drivers ed. Moved to Missouri, just re-took the eye and driving test. Moved to Arkansas, did a straight license swap. Moved to Nebraska, same thing. Moved to Kansas, same thing. Moved to Texas, had to take the written test. Moved to the UK and took a written and driving test. Now my license doesn’t expire until I’m 70, so I’ve got 30 DMV-free years to look forward to.
Yeah, I nearly dribbled yogurt reading the OP. 
I know the stupid Gaithersburg MVA too fucking well. I got divorced a year ago, so had my car transfered to only my name along with my motorcycle. I go in and get assigned to the first line. Am told all is peachy with my titles, everything signed in the proper places and all. I stand in the second line and wait for two hours. When I finally get up front I am told I will need my marriage certificate. WTF? How come I’m not told that, it is NOT fucking listed on the items I need.
FTR I was married to a Russian woman, so I asked, what if I got married in Russia? You still need your certificate, I was told. And if it’s in Russian? Then you need to have it translated. Then I asked how did my wife get my name off the titles if I have the certificate at home? She did not, was the reply. Well I know damn well that she did. They would not fucking help, so I spent a good four hours there.
I go back and have to go through the first line yet again. Now guess what the title that I was told the first day is not right. At least I can correct it. Get up there, get my car done ok, the motorcycle I’m told, still has my wife’s name on the loan so I need to take care of that first. How come I’m not told this the other three fucking times I’m in line?
Finally get my loan done, which means a new title. The wife is told by her laywer not to sign anything, period. Come the day of the divorce I have to argue with him about her signing it. He finally lets her. But now what? I’m not married any more so I can not have her name taken off the title without paying the new taxes, registration fees. Guess what, when I want to sell the damn bike I’m gonna hunt down my wife, I’m not paying for what she should have done in the first place.
Other gripes about that MVA, they told an ex that it would cost $60 to get a new license, why, because she moved and it costs $30 to change your address and $30 for a new one. Funny I got my address changed for free. Stupid fuckers.
Okay, quick question, when you say this, do you mean that the souls will be the birdie or something, or do you mean that, like, you’ll call up the souls and say, “Hey, wanna play some badmitton?”
Just checking.
I went to the DMV yesterday morning and got there around 7:45 for the 8:30 opening. I was number 20 in line. It was hot and early and no one was happy. As time passed, the line once again grew to Six Flagsian proportions. I was working up a good head of ranty steam.
But then…the office opened. There was a different triage guy working (Dickhead, I later saw, was administering road tests that day. Those poor, poor kids…) and he happily faxed the Holy Title Transfer Request and gave me my number. I showed the lady at the window my birth certificate, my old drivers license, my social security card, two utility bills and a pay stub (Note to the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania: Why not just add a secret handshake requirement to all this? It’ll be easier in the long run.) and she gave me my new drivers license. Once the office opened, I was in and out in half an hour.
I’m just…huh. This is actually kind of embarassing. The only thing I’m even a little bit mad about this time is that they didn’t let me keep my Michigan drivers license, which is more attractive than the Pennsylvania one and had a very cute picture of me, to boot. And I can’t even get very worked up about that.
So, yeah. PennDOT and the Saylorsburg DMV are a bunch of garbage-licking, smegma-snorting, Glitter-appreciating, llama-fucking whoremasters for not being rude and slow enough for me to write a good rant. Bastards!
<grumble mumble>Bunch of tapdancing cumdumpsters. How I loathe them. </grumble mumble>
I like the idea of the souls being used for birdies, so I’m sticking with that image.
And minor nitpick: It’s badminton.
I said I was a copy editor; I never said I was a good one.
I want to date you. 
Damn. . .they’ve figured it out! 
We have that joke about North Dakota down here in TX. We don’t believe it exists. We’ve never seen it, we don’t know anyone who’s seen it except for one person, and her testimony is suspect.
North Dakota is a government plot. I think that’s where they hid the aliens.
Wow, looks like my mention of the Gaithersburg MVA office really hit a few nerves. I only hit the highlights of that visit, actually, in my first post about it. Among other wonderful things:
- They sent me home for my marriage certificate because my passport wasn’t sufficient by itself since it didn’t have my married name on it. (This is the “That’s not his job!” troll’s order.) My marriage certificate is in Japanese. (Well, there’s three numbers on it, but they’re meaningless if you don’t know that they’re saying I was married on the 3rd day of the 4th month of the reign of the Emperor Akihito.) So I came back and, after the yet-eternal wait, handed her the marriage certificate. In Japanese. Without the translation (that was hiding in my other paperwork).
DAMN the bitch, she just looked at me and said, “Translation?” So I had to fork it over. Couldn’t even get the satisfaction of playing with her head for hours as revenge for what she was doing with MINE.
Then there was Papa Tiger’s experience. He’s slightly hard of hearing, all those years working around big computers, plus has chronic tinnitis. So he has to go to a window where a young woman is working behind the thick plexiglas (that I’m sure they put up just because they know their whole staff would currently be six feet under if they didn’t). The ESL woman behind the counter mumbles something at him. He explains to her that he’s hard of hearing, it’s very noisy, and HE CAN’T HEAR HER. She mumbles again. He repeats himself. She mumbles AGAIN. He still can’t HEAR her, let alone UNDERSTAND her.
So finally he looks behind her at the ten other people standing around shooting the breeze (with lines hundreds long waiting for their attention, needless to say) and says, VERY loudly, “IS THERE SOMEONE IN THIS OFFICE WHO CAN SPEAK ENGLISH LOUD ENOUGH THAT I CAN HEAR THEM TO WAIT ON ME???” He reports that the supervisor came up immediately and didn’t even act SURPRISED at the request. Apparently it was a common one.
What I want to know is: If I ever move back to Maryland, WHERE’S THE BEL AIR MVA OFFICE???
:smack: Make that the 3rd day of the 4th month of the 8th year of the reign of the Emperor Akihito.
It’s in Bel Air.