The DMV Dance-off

when social magic happened in the world's least magical place

Take a seat, dear reader, and allow me to tell you a story that you won’t believe.

It was Summer, and the line to get a driver's license or renew a registration stretched out the door and into the street. That’s right, I was at the DMV. I was about to take my place in line when I noticed a striking young man standing near the entrance. He was tall and muscular, with a devilish grin and a sparkle in his eye. I could tell he was up to no good.

Now, we were waiting in this line for quite some time, and every few minutes or so he would get this amused look in his eye as if he was thinking something completely outrageous. After about an hour, the tension became unbearable. Luckily, he was next in line.

He sauntered up to the counter, where a grumpy DMV employee was sitting. She looked up at the young man and asked him what he wanted.

"I want to dance," the young man said, a mischievous gleam in his eye.

The DMV worker looked at him, marginally amused but mostly annoyed that he was wasting her time, and said, "I'm sorry, sir, but this is a DMV, not a dance club. How can I help you?"

But the young man was not deterred. He began to sway his hips and clap his hands, a smile spreading across his face. "Come on, let's dance," he said, trying to coax the DMV worker out from behind the counter.

The DMV worker resisted, shaking her head, beginning to feel the early signs of infuriation coming on... but then the young man gave her a look. To this day, I still can't quite describe what he communicated in that look, what sparkle compelled her so deeply. It’s like she felt at once liberated and comfortable, at the frontier and at home. It must have been only a moment, but I could see that she sunk so deep into those eyes, eyes which contained wisdom beyond their years, wisdom which I didn't think was possible in "the youth" anymore, and she hesitated.

“What’s your name?” the young man asked her. He was still grinning and hadn’t dropped eye contact with her for a second.

“It’s Jill”, she replied, breaking character for the first time. I don’t really know how to describe it any better than that. One moment she was Jillian, DMV attendant, and the next she was just… Jill. I guess the same Jill she’d always been. The Jill whose parents had held and admired and tickled her furiously, the Jill who had gotten perfect penmanship marks in the 1st grade and felt SO proud, the Jill who had kissed the first boy of her life at 13 and felt her heart come alive, the Jill who had cheated on her husband and could never find the words to explain how that act of rebellion was a gross infantile outburst of a deep need she had been neglecting for decades, the Jill who had tucked herself away in the recesses of Jillian’s mind and hadn’t been seen or held by anyone, including herself, for 2 long decades.

Jill couldn’t contain herself. Her hand shot out to meet the strange young man’s outstretched palm. His grin grew from amused to ecstatic as he pulled her into a Salsa. I couldn’t believe my eyes, and evidently, neither could anyone else, time seemed to stop as everyone in the DMV dropped whatever bullshit they thought was important and stared in amazement as the two of them moved together in perfect harmony, their feet tapping out a lively rhythm.

Someone started clapping, and then the whole room came alive, transformed in an instant from drained, soulless skeletons to great, elegant animals. People were drumming on the desks, clapping to the rhythm, joining in the dance! Jill ripped off her shirt and lost herself in the dance.

I don’t know how long we were all in that room like that, reveling. One hour? Two? But eventually, the two of them finally stopped and embraced. Jill was still glowing from the heat and energy of the dance, and the entire room erupted in applause. She smiled shyly at the young man and said the only two words she could muster: “Thank you.”

The young man gave her a wink and a nod, as if to say “no, you didn’t just hallucinate, this was real, don’t forget.” then disappeared out the door into the hot summer night.

I wish there was more to this story, but I never saw him again. I wish I knew who he was, or at least how I could meet him again.

I wish he would save us.