Wednesday, August 5, 2009

-insert horror music here-

Ah, the pleasant, much loved DMV. The sound of those three lovely letters bring warmth to my heart. Only not.

I walk up to the woman at the front desk and she tells me I need a birth certificate or a passport to renew my drivers permit. I don't have it. I could walk away, try another day, but no. I take the number she gives me and sit down. I wait. Wait some more. We figure we'll see what the paperwork-person says, but then my stepmom offers to drive all the way back home to get my passport. I don't actually want her to, but she's out the door before I can say "Wait, it's not THAT important!" but hey, we're waiting here already for my sister to take the permit test (for the third time).

Notice: I had a permit. I had it for a year. It died.

So I wait, fill out the form, look at my number (G034), look at the screen that tells you when your number is called, look at my form, sign the little box and then realize I'm not supposed to sign it yet. Oops...

I realize my stepmom needs to sign the form and tell me what my social security number is. She's not back yet. They call my number and I walk up to window 10 (it's not really a window, just a counter pretending to be a window). The man in 'window' number 10 looks at the DL44 form I filled out and says,

"You need your social security number and your parent's signature."
"Oh."
"Do you have your other forms?"
"What?"
"The little packet of forms?"

I give him what I have: my old permit and a yellow slip of paper that says I completed driver's training. It's not enough.

"Sorry, I'll remember next time." I drop my purse, bend to pick it up, then drop my yellow slip of paper, pick that up too, then drop my sweater. I walk away holding my bag by the flap that closes it, my papers pinched tightly in my other hand, my sweater dangling preariously over both arms. I walk out the door to see my stepmom get out of the car. I tell her I didn't have what I needed. She's holding my passport.

"Oh," she says. She gets back in the car. I sit in the back seat and mumble "sorry" several times.

At least my sister passed the permit test.


Matador photo found at www.awkblog.com

No comments:

Post a Comment