The Department of Motor Vehicles

This summer is a one of changes. Aren't they all? While applying for a job this past week, there was a question asking that if I was hired, would I be able to prove my age. I couldn't. No I.D. card. No driver's license. "So," I thought, "I need an I.D.!" After talking it over with my parents, my dad drove me to the Dept. of Public Safety office near where we live.

Alex, a friend of mine, posted a few days before that he had arrived at 7 AM, an hour before it opens, and there was no one there. 8 AM rolled around, and I figured it would be empty. By 8:30, I was showered and filling out forms. We left by 9:15, ready with all the necessary documents and things I would need to prove who I was.

We got there and Jesus! That place was packed! Most of the seats were full, and in the line, were six people ahead of me. After a eight-minute wait, I got up to the desk, said what I was there for, and was given a number by a very nice woman. I was 412. My father and I sat down in blue chairs and we waited.

And waited.

And waited.

While I sat there, I looked up at the clock at 10.45 and I said to myself, "My God, is this what life is?" I guess it is... just waiting your turn... slowly dying... second-by-second... day-by-day.

By 10.30, I started growing restless, and then they called 408. And then 409. 410. 411.

And then it stopped. 411 had been some girl with her mom for what I thought was her first driver's license. It wasn't. They came back 30 minutes after they had been called, entering from the front door, and then I figured it had been a driver's test. 

I had become even more restless and now it was 11.00. "This is what we get for voting Rick Perry in!" I yelled to myself. And then I noticed all the portraits of people on a wall behind the counter. "Dicks."

And then, at  "412 at window five! 412 at window five!" We were up! "YES!" I thought. "My life has been redeemed! Finally!" I awkwardly walked to window five and there was this emotionless women wearing a sky blue Texas DPS shirt. Her hair was in braids.

"What can I help with you today?" the women said coldly.

Putting my stuff down, I started, "I'd like to apply for an I.D. card."

"O.K.," she replied, "can I have a proof of identity?"

I handed her my passport.

"How about two documents showing residency?"

I gave her a school transcript, my school photo I.D., and my Selective Service card.

We went back-and-forth a few times before she finally gave a print-out of my temporary I.D. and then after paying $16, said it'd be in the mail in a few weeks. Totally worth $16.

I think I lost my temp I.D. Shit.