November 2001 – Priscilla Spencer

At times, the Government seriously bothers me. Today, my dad and I embarked on an adventure to renew my driver’s license. The DPS, of course, is located in the most inconvenient, remote location possible, much to our annoyance. I filled out the necessary form and waited until they called me up to the desk, where I was then given a brief eye exam, which in my opinion was slightly unfair, as the left eye screen had a huge glare. Then the lady informed me that she couldn’t renew my license because I never had one to start out with. Evidently, her predecessor had made a typo, because my “license” was restricted to being simply a driver’s permit with photo-ID. For those that don’t know the difference, a driver’s permit is intended for student drivers, restricting them to driving with an adult in the passenger seat. This caused my dad and me to flail a great deal, as she claimed that I hadn’t finished Driver’s Ed, which was absolutely ridiculous. This meant that I am now guilty of driving without a licence for at least a dozen counts. Even though I had no way of knowing, that sort of thing really bothers me.

Because the DPS closed at 5, we didn’t have time to go to All Star, the driving school, to get a copy of the paperwork necessary to issue me a license. This is a definite problem. I needed to have a car for the weekend, as both my parents are leaving town and I don’t want to have to live on pizza and Chinese food. Plus, I have rehearsal on Friday and every day next week, so God knows when I would finally be able to get the bloody thing renewed. Desperate, my dad called All Star, to see if they had a copy of the paperwork. The guy said that he’d call my dad back in a few minutes. After 5 o’clock passed, we went to my dad’s office, where the All Star guy finally called my dad. He couldn’t find a copy. In fact, he couldn’t find a record that I’d even attended All Star. After a great deal of annoyance, he told my dad that he’d check again in different years to see if he could find my file. A few minutes later, he called to tell my dad that he had found the form, but that additional copies were $10. With no other solution, my dad agreed.

He dropped me off at home and went off to pick up the form from All Star, which didn’t close until 6:30, thankfully. I left my li– *permit* with my dad, in case All Star decided to be annoying. Twenty minutes later, my dad called me to say that he couldn’t find my permit, which I had put on top of a stack of envelopes next to the driver’s seat. I told him that he was probably overlooking it somehow, like I always do whenever I try too hard to find something. However, when he returned, neither of us could find the permit, despite 15 minutes of exhaustive searching, flashlights included. This is especially disheartening, as he has already mailed the stack of envelopes where I had put my permit. Just great.

What do we do from here? Now that I have the Form of Doom, I have four options. One is to go transportation-less for the weekend, relying solely on my bicycle to get places. The “nearby” restaurants I love are nearly an hour’s walk, or perhaps a 20 minute bike ride. Fortunately, the new SMU Barnes’ and Noble is about a 10 minute bike ride. However, I’m sick and it’s nearly freezing outside. Frankly, I don’t feel like risking it. Having one’s face continuously barraged by freezing wintry air is not the best thing for one’s immune system. Option Two is to drive around regardless, which in my opinion is better than Option One, but still a really bad idea. I could get in serious trouble if stopped by the police, which would be the Government’s perfect ironic justice. Option Three is to convince my aunt to take me out of school during lunch (which is mercifully followed by a free period, as we don’t have P.E. on Fridays), and get my license renewed. While this sounds to me like the best option, I would not be in the school’s good graces if the Powers That Be found out. Most likely, I would be given a detention, and I could possibly have my Junior priveliges suspended when we finally get them. Option Four is not even worth considering. It entails skipping rehearsal on Friday and going with my aunt to renew my license. Because I skipped Tuesday’s rehearsal due to illness, Mr. Blaydes will kill me if I skip again. Plus, he decided yesterday that he wanted me in the opening number, which is particularly annoying, because that has been in rehearsal all week, and I have missed all the choreography lessons. He wanted me to come today, and it was only through a pathetic amount of pleading that I was able to get off in order to get my license. Bah.

So that’s my story. Stuck between a rock and a hard place. Anyone that read to the end gets cookie points. Anyone that didn’t should be glad, because that means they actually have a life. Good for them. So meh.