I have, on more than one occasion, compared Asher Herson’s Chabad of Northwest New Jersey to the Division of Motor Vehicles—“a cross between a kindergarten, a half-way house, and the Division of Motor Vehicles” is how I believe it was put. But an apology is clearly in order.
I visited the DMV yesterday, one week before my driver’s license and automobile registration were set to expire. Anticipating long lines, bad air and the sub-par service this machine was reputed for, I’d brought along Brendan Behan’s Borstal Boy, which I was only 50 pages into, another 300 pages to go. Expected to finish the book before I emerged, sweat-drenched and dysfunctioned by bureaucrats.
I was wrong.
I was in and out of the DMV in less than ten minutes. I repeat: TEN MINUTES! The clerks were polite and plentiful.
So my sincere apologies to those who deserve it. And my condolences to those who don’t.