Am I standing in the right line? Is this even a line?

I don’t mind waiting. I can be patient. But I hate that feeling that I might be waiting for something that is never going to happen or that it will be a disappointment.

People continue to crowd in around me and push ahead to lay their documents on the stack that is beginning to pile up quickly on the desk. It’s a very busy Monday morning. The woman sitting behind the computer screen next to the ever-growing mountain of papers is frowning as she bangs away on the keys.

This is my first visit to the department of transportation where I’m applying for my Thai driver’s license. My friend Nong told me what I needed to bring before I got here. “You need a copy of your passport and your Thai work permit. You also need a health clearance from the hospital and a letter from your landlord showing proof of residence. They will probably want to see your American driver’s license, and it’s good if you have your international driving permit.” So I’m armed with a big, fat envelope of documents and photocopies. I’m ready, but I still don’t know if I’m waiting in the right line.

I squeeze my way through the press. “Excuse me. Excuse me. Sorry. Excuse me.”

When I finally reach the frowning woman at the desk, I ask her, using my gloriously broken Thai, if this is where I need to be to get a driver’s license. She tells me I’m in the right place, but her frown seems to deepen at the thought of having to help the silly foreigner who can barely speak Thai. So she calls to a co-worker and motions them over. “The foreigner wants to get a driving license.”

The two talk back and forth in rapid-fire Thai that I can’t understand. Well, at least they are talking about what I came here for.

The two women finish their conversation, and the second one directs me to go and sit down in a nearby cubicle. I sit for a few minutes watching the crowd of people continue to grow. Soon another woman wearing a bright yellow shirt comes and sits down on the other side of the desk from me. “You want to get a driving license?” Thai people are usually very polite and friendly when meeting someone for the first time, so I’m a little surprised by the bluntness of her question. I figure she must have a rather thankless job processing applications all day long.

“Yes, I want to get my car license and motorcycle license.”

“Do you have all your documents?”

“I think so.”

I hand her the stack of papers I’m holding, and she begins leafing through them.

“You need two copies of this one . . . and this one . . . and this one, too. Please go downstairs and make the copies.”

She hands back all the documents and points to the stairs leading down to the ground floor. Before I can ask her anything, she gets up and leaves.

“Do I come back here when I’m finished or go back to the first line? What’s the next step?” There is no one to answer my question.

Several minutes later, weighed down by the Xeroxed truth that I really am a clueless foreigner, I return to the cubicle of the woman with the bright yellow shirt. I wait for her to finish helping a young couple, and then she has me sit down again. I carefully lay out all the documents on her desk as evidence that I followed her directions. She leafs through everything for a minute or so, stapling some of the documents together.

“Okay. Now you need to go and have a vision screening. Please go and wait in the room across the hall until someone calls your name.”

There are a few people already waiting in the large, empty room. A man sits reading a newspaper. A few chairs away, a woman is feeding some bread to a small girl. I sit down to wait. A small TV on a table is playing a local news channel in Thai. I watch for a few minutes, but I don’t understand much. I check my email and play a game on my phone for a while. I sit and watch people come and go. I look at my watch. Have I really been sitting here 45 minutes? Why hasn’t anyone called my name yet? Am I even waiting in the right place?

I get up and go back to see the woman in the yellow shirt.

“Umm, excuse me. I’ve been waiting in the other room for a long time to have my vision screening, but no one called my name.”

She doesn’t say anything to me. She takes all of my papers again, pulls out two documents, writes down some numbers, and marks her initials on them. “Please wait over there for the cashier to call your name. After you pay the fees, you can come back here to have your picture taken.”

I make my way through the crowded room again and sit down to wait. Well, I guess I just had my vision screening.

I look around and try to guess how many people are waiting. There are at least 100 people. I continue to wait for my name to be called. An hour passes. And another. It’s late in the afternoon, and I know the office will be closing soon. There are now less than 15 people in the waiting area with me.

Finally, the cashier calls my name. A group of young people sitting a little ways away begin to laugh when they hear my name called. I assume it’s because my foreign name sounds funny to them. I quickly pay the cashier. She directs me back to see the woman in the yellow shirt to have my picture taken. I sit down in an old plastic chair in front of a blue piece of cloth draped over a wall of the cubicle.

“Please sit up straight and look into the camera.” She snaps my photo. She seems to be making some adjustments on her computer screen. I hear the hum of the large printing machine on her desk as it warms up and begins printing my licenses.

A few minutes later, I’m walking across the parking lot to my car. Getting a driver’s license seems like such a simple task, but I feel drained.

Figuring out how to live and work in a different culture means more than just learning to be patient. I can’t always understand what’s going on around me or what people are trying to say to me. I sometimes struggle to understand why people do the things they do. I often feel like I’m walking around with a huge cartoony question mark above my head. Learning to live in Thai culture means I have to trust that, with time and experience, I will figure things out. And when I feel lost and confused, I pray and ask Jesus to point me in the right direction.

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