Buckle up your seat belts folks, after getting another months worth of supervised driving practise from yours truly, ( I felt she needed it after this episode ) Shelby passed her written test yesterday and has become an official independent driver of the roads. A road warrior just like the rest of us.
“Now serving ……number 211….. at counter number 12″ was smoothly and seductively purred across the speaker as we sat down with the rest of the suffering souls. They must employ the use of a sex kittens electronic voice to keep people’s minds off the fact they are aging painfully in a hard chair. I glanced at the number I had scored. 230……..it would be a long day in hell. With nothing to do beyond compulsively looking at the sad little number in my hand, I watched people.
Not to break with the flow here, but good gawd in fashion heaven, is Neon honestly making it’s way back into the wardrobes of misguided woman everywhere? I saw no less then 4 different woman wearing neon. There could have been more, but I was blinded. It could be an Idaho thing,…for the sake of the nation, I do hope it’s contained to our borders. But, if you, who is reading this, owns a neon piece of clothing. I salute you, oh mighty brave and loud one. The world definitely sees you.
Shelby was able to break through my neon trance by requesting to see my drivers license. A license I admit, I was proud of. My picture was not the awful by normal awfulness usually equated with drivers photos. I looked rather good in it and had been complimented frequently with this phrase, “Wow, that’s a pretty good drivers license photo!” to which I would smile, take my license back and pay homage to my photogenic luck. But yesterday, my daughter rattled my claim to drivers license fame by saying, “OH look Mom, your license expires next month.” Ouch. I looked at the crowd, looked at my number, thought about doing the countdown again next month and decided if I could kill two birds with one stone I’d just renew myself at the same time.
After the sands of time had dropped through the hour glass of D.M.V sex kittens voice, our number was up. We cleared the way for Shelby and she was sent off to take the test. I sweet talked my way into a renewal without a second number. First up was my eye test.
“Read the third line” So says D.M.V. goddess. “X W H S Q, blah blah” I chimed in. But honestly, it wasn’t as easy as it should have been. Things were….umm…fuzzy? Then she switched something and chimed in again, read the third line………..Nothing. Not a damn letter. It could have been the lottery numbers for tonight’s drawing, a guaranteed win of millions and I wouldn’t have been able to make out a single number. I asked her, is this a joke? Should I see those? She told me it was testing my right eye. Blind in one eye! I had no idea! I blamed the neon in the room, told her my eye simply hadn’t recovered yet. So I can’t say why, or if this is normal for right eye blindness, or she just had neon sympathy, but she passed me anyway. Well thank you Goddess D.M.V, you’re my new hero.
As I walked over to the next station to get my picture, I studied the old license in my hand. The tilt of my chin, the width of my smile. The way my hair was tucked. I was determined to recreate picture perfection. However, when I laid eyes to the woman heading the station I was leery. The only way to describe the vibe coming off her non-smiling face was pure disgruntled D.M.V employee. I tried to smile, say hello, warm up the temperature for this all important photo op, but I’m afraid she’d already heard it all. Michelangelo couldn’t have chipped a smile out of her face.
I handed over my old drivers license and refrained from mentioning to her that she was holding a license that should be bronzed for all eternity. She told me, back up! Face the camera! Which I did, and right as I was shifting my chin, encouraging a soft half smile I heard these ominous words, “Ok, go wait over there!”
What? She took it? I wasn’t ready! Despite myself, I took life into my own hands and said, “I wasn’t ready, can I look at it it? Maybe do it over? Pleaseeee??”
“Deal…. With….. It” was her retort. Deal with it. I wanted to ask her if Santa didn’t visit her for Christmas this year. Or if she also took great pleasure in twisting little kids ears. I wanted to snarl back and curse her with neon hair and black teeth. I wanted to throw a two year old fit, but I sucked it in and waited for the proof of my drivers license demise. She is the reason people get the hives before they walk into the D.M.V. She, who is evil and heartless.
There are two things in my world. My imagination, which can go wildly overboard and factual reality. The result. My picture. The sentence I must now carry in my wallet lived up to both my imagination and factual truth. It’s hideous. The only thing I am missing is some numbers under my chin and a criminal record. This picture is a stunned mug shot. Michael Jacksons mug shot looks better then mine. As for Shelby, by the time she got done with all of her requirements, She who is evil went on a break, and Shelby got a sweet, beautiful, compassionate woman who waited for Shelby to get ready, she paused to look at the picture, told Shelby, “Oh sweetie, it’s wonderful.” Luck. Pure and Simple.
So Shelby and I walked out of that horrendous place. Shelby, smiling and flashing her new prize winning license. Me, half blind and downgraded from photo grace to became the mug shot queen, looking pissed and frothy. And how was your day?