Now Serving the Damned

A place no one ever wants to spend any amount of time in. A place that I wouldn’t wish upon my worst enemy. The wait is agony, as I stand there waiting for whatever torment awaits me, whispering to myself, “What have I done to deserve this gruesome punishment?” The air is hot and humid, and I can feel the sweat dripping from my body as my clothes stick to my skin. Crammed into lines like a can of sardines. What torture could be worse than this? I wait for hours, my back begins to ache, and the soles of my feet burn, then the smell comes. The smell of bodies rotting, the strong musk and odor emanating from everyone’s pores. It smells like a corpse that has been decaying for weeks.

I become anxious and claustrophobic as I look up at the line. My eyes play tricks on me as I peer forward, as the line grows longer than a mile. I think to myself, maybe this is the punishment, perhaps the torture is the waiting. An endless line is my fate. That’s when I hear the screaming. I listened to the screams and pleas of the people ahead of me. Some yell at the top of their lungs only to be silenced by the demons that receive them. Sometimes I could hear crying saying, “This cannot be. I have waited so long!” Only to be sent to the back of the line.  A horror I hoped not to face. A horror worse than the one at the end of the line. I then touch my face, only to feel the bags starting to form under my eyes. The coffee does not help. It tastes stale and old, as if it has been three days since the last batch was brewed. I cannot stomach it; its taste is foul and repulsive. I almost vomited, but that would lead to me going to the back of the line, and I could not bear another minute of this torture. I swallowed my vomit and kept going. It is finally my time to reach the front of the line, and the demon that awaits gives me a forced smile and says, “Welcome to the DMV, how may I help you?”.