Dallas residents Diana Luna and daughter Mercedes wanted to make the most of their rare shared day off: Knock one long-postponed chore off the to-do list, then head downtown for a visit to the Perot Museum.

Instead, they spent almost eight hours in the unique hell that is a Texas Department of Public Safety Driver License Mega Center.

“We have been through all the stages of grief,” Diana told me, only half-joking, in hour six of their wait Thursday. “We had no idea what we were getting into — we’ve gone through anger, depression and now we are just giddy.”

If the state Legislature won’t listen to the Lunas about fixing this mess, maybe Gov. Greg Abbott’s tongue-lashing Monday will spark some action. "The way DPS has handled driver's licenses in the state of Texas is despicable, and it has been nonresponsive," Abbott said.

He might have been lumping in the driver's license issue because he was upset with the agency over the noncitizen voter list debacle, but he wasn’t wrong.

The governor’s criticism is only the latest in Austin’s long-running frustration — and failure to get this right. Last August, amid reports of eight-hour waits, DPS promised to use 100 new positions to improve service.

But based on online reviews and my friends’ horror stories, any changes to the in-person process of securing driver’s licenses and ID cards seemed mostly wishful thinking. So last week, I decided to check things out for myself.

This field trip gave the system every benefit of the doubt: I picked the Garland operation, on Saturn Road just off Interstate 635, because Google and Yelp reviews said it was the best of all the North Texas mega centers. Mondays and Fridays are the most crowded, so I went on a Thursday. Not just any Thursday, but a bitterly cold one, which I figured would scare away some customers.

Not so much, I discovered while circling the Walmart-sized lot several times in search of a parking spot.

At the front door just after 2 p.m., I learned from a handful of half-frozen folks that they were stuck outside because the waiting area was packed to capacity.

My weather app said it was 38 degrees and “feels like 29.” The line behind me grew longer. The last time I counted, 50-plus folks — some of them with young children and others without even a coat — were huddled against the building’s ice-cold walls.

People line up outside the entrance at the Texas Department of Public Safety Driver License in Garland. (Shaban Athuman / Staff Photographer)

Every 10 or 15 minutes, a staffer poked her head out the door to say “it would be only another 10 to 15 minutes” before we could join the hundreds of people waiting inside.

Even those of us in heavy coats and mittens were hardly able to control our chattering teeth sufficiently to complain to one another.

“I knew it was gonna suck — but I didn’t think it would suck this bad,” 21-year-old Dallas resident Jasmine told me. Thursday was not her first trip to the mega center, but this time she would be there until the bitter end because her boss was tired of giving her time off.

A few lucky customers walked right in after they showed proof they had appointments, which can be made online beginning at 7 a.m. — but only for same-day services. Those slots are scooped up within minutes every morning.

While some license renewals can be handled solely online, many services require an in-person visit. And it doesn’t take a genius to see that the customer-to-staff ratio is completely out of whack.

Some state lawmakers believe the solution is to move driver's license responsibility to the Texas Department of Motor Vehicles. But transferring the burden without additional dollars is a hopeless strategy.

Richland College student Mercedes Luna and her mother, Diana, spent almost eight hours last Thursday at the Garland driver's license mega center. (Sharon Grigsby / Dallas Morning News)

At the front of our forlorn waiting line Thursday, Rockwall resident Todd Feste was just one of many who said the state owes its residents more efficient services: “I didn’t realize it was this bad. It wasn’t like this when I took my kids to get their first licenses.”

The only winners were the enterprising folks who handed out reduced-price coupons for hot drinks at a nearby storefront. Some made quick dashes in that direction — but most of us just obsessed over the idea that we might wait in the outdoor line only to learn that we couldn’t get in at all that day.

But thankfully, after almost an hour, our “10 or 15 minutes” was really over.

Once inside, customers received a number designating their place in the queue and joined 300 or so beaten-down people in one of the waiting rooms. I surveyed about 25 people sandwiched into one row of seats, and they all said they had been in their chairs for three hours or more.

Although customers with appointments are told they’ll be served within 30 minutes of their designated time, several told me they had been waiting almost two hours.

The Garland Mega Center serves about 1,500 people each day and staff works far beyond the posted 7 p.m. close in order to see everyone lucky enough to get through the front door.

Unlike what I had read about other mega centers, a handful of courteous staffers circulated through the Garland operation and patiently answered questions.

Mostly it was the same question: Why is this taking so long?

Wall outlets in the halls were hot commodities for folks willing to sit on the cold floor to charge their laptops or phones. Others, such as Dawn, from Little Elm, sat on the floor because no chairs were available. Although she expected her wait to be another couple of hours, her phone battery was almost dead. “Tell those lawmakers to put some charging stations in here,” she said.

Staff told me that, with wait times of up to six hours common, some customers become frustrated or downright angry — a state trooper on site for driving tests occasionally has to intervene.

But more often, people fall into a stupor of sorts, eyes glued to side-by-side video screens. One monitor charts the slower-than-molasses service and the other advertises all the great Texas landmarks and parks you could visit if you weren’t being held hostage here.

Every so often, Diana and Mercedes Luna interrupted their conversation with me to listen as an automated voice droned: Now serving C7046 at station 27 ... D8022 at station 10 ... S3241 at station 31.

“Punching ourselves in the face would be about as much fun as this,” said Mercedes, a Richland College student. Diana added, “I love getting to spend this much time with my daughter — but not like this.”

I was the lucky one in the mass of miserable people because I didn’t actually need service; once my interviews were finished, I could leave. Mercedes texted me later Thursday to say their number was finally called and, with the 9-to-5 misery behind her, she was enjoying a bagel and orange juice.

“After all, it still feels like breakfast time in this very weird and awful day,” she said.