I grew up in South Dakota, so I’ve been driving a motorized vehicle since I was 14. I’m quite proud of the fact that I got my first citation in a Chevy Citation before most of you were even thinking about driving. I was driving on what the kids called the Loop in junior high and because I had a light out on the car, and I got pulled over. Scared the CRAP out of me and I couldn’t sleep that night, wondering what kind of beating I would take in the morning.
I just had to go to the police station within 15 days to show that I fixed the light. Speaking of 15 days, I had to get my new Utah driver’s license last night, because reasons, so I went to the DMV on the way home…for the last three nights. On Friday, I walked in, saw the line and walked straight back out. No way was I waiting in that circus of a line.
On Monday, I went back, ready to wait forever if needed. I filled out the paperwork, got to the front of the line, about 30 minutes later, and said I’d like my license please. She laughed at me and said, do you have you paperwork? “Paperwork?”, I gasped. “No, I don’t have any paperwork. Here’s my old Washington license. Just exchange them or whatever.”
“Um, you need like a bunch of paperwork. You know, to prove that you are a living person, you have an identity and that you aren’t living on the street or something.”
“Um, doesn’t my licence from another state prove all that?”
“Nope. So I’ll need your passport, your SS card, your title on your car, title on your house, 4 more forms of ID, a bank statement that you live somewhere, a letter from 3 landlords, a DNA test, a job history, and a season ticket bill from your favorite sports team.”
“Well, I don’t have all that on me right now. But you better be ready tomorrow to give me a frickin license if I bring all that.”
So yesterday, I brought a grocery bag full of all those things, waited in line again for about 30 minutes, and then again in the waiting area for 30 minutes, and finally got to a teller. I spilled all the paperwork on the counter and said, “Gimme a license.”
He LOLed at all of it, said, “Um this one doesn’t show your new address.”
I LOLed right back and said, “HERE ARE 10 FORMS OF ID. PRETEND ONE OF THEM WORKS!” He found something, and made me take the eye test. I got all the right letters, and he said, “Are you wearing contacts?”
“Nope. I got that lasik surgery that was supposed to allow me to shoot lasers out of my eyes, but they only fixed my vision.”
He told me to pay $25 and I was ready for him to hand me my license that I had been trying to get for 3 days now.
“Great. Now you just need to proceed over to station 19.”
“Wait, whuuuut? What is station 19? You’re not talking about station 19 over there where all the teenagers are taking a written test, right?”
“LOL. Of course you do. Just need to get 20 out of 25 to pass.”
“Oh wait. You aren’t kidding. Really. I have to take the written test. I haven’t had to take that since I was 15.”
I went over to STATION 19. “Uh yes, I’m here to take a written test. That I passed when I was 15. And I’ve been driving terribly since before you were born. Tell me I don’t really have to take it.”
“LOL. So since you are old, you can have an open book. No cheating with your phone though!”
I spent 40 minutes and multiple minutes per question, because I was not going to fail this thing and have to take it again. I passed, with bitter rage in my face.
“Bitter Ben. The 44 year old here, who had to take a written test to get a driver’s license. Like seriously.”
“LOL, looooks like you passed. Um, here is your temporary piece of crap paper license. Your real one will come in 12-18 months. It expires in 18 months. We’ll see you again in a year and a half! Make sure to study, cause the test is going to get harder!”
I ran out of there as fast as I could. Jumped in my car and proceeded to break every speeding law, moving violation, and road rage law there was.
No wonder there are so many accidents on the road.
Bitter Road RAGE Ben