birthday boy at the dmv
Music: Nine Inch Nails: Ghosts I-IV (2008)
Today I am officially 35 years of age. I am not despondent. I am not gleeful. I am just sort of "whatever," and "feed me bourbon." To my abject horror, however, I realized last night that today my beloved Louisiana driver's license would expire. For four glorious years I have carried this card around, amusing countless people (including one cop, who gave me a warning because he laughed aloud at sight of this license). I have put off getting my Texas license because, by law, I must "surrender" this most precious of cards (click image for bigger version). Begrudgingly, I rolled out of bed early-ish, put on my best Texas shirt, waxed my moustache, grabbed the appropriate paperwork, and with pain in my heart drove to the DMV.
Line out the door.
Wait.
Waiting.
Wait. . . wait . . wait.
BITCHY SCOWL-FACED LADY: "Do you have your passport? [give it to her] Proof of insurance? [give it to her] Social Security card? [give it to her] Proof of vehicle registration?"
BIRTHDAY BOY: "It's on my car; it's a sticker."
BITCHY SCOWL-FACED LADY: "Sir, you need your receipt for that sticker."
BIRTHDAY BOY: "M'am, I didn't get no receipt. I peeled off the sticker and slapped it on my car. I've written down the registration number on my insurance card [show to lady]."
BITCHY SCOWL-FACED LADY: "Sir, the backing of that sticker was your receipt. You will need to get duplicate from the Tax Collector's office."
BIRTHDAY BOY: "Bureaucracy, huh?" [looking to make a friendly connection with lady]
BITCHY SCOWL-FACED LADY: "We follow the law here sir. Next!"
What is up with the attitude at the DMV? Every one in every state I've been to is the same: unhappy DMV workers. I mean, you'd think with all those excited teenagers applying for their first license the mood would be somewhat upbeat, but no!
So I drive to the Tax Collectors office [waiting ensues]. Drive back to the DMV [more waiting]. Finally get my card. The women working in the back were laughing at my old license. They liked me. They giggled. "But you cannot make a face like that in Texas; the state will send you a nasty letter and make you do this all over again." Super bummer. So my new photo looks nowhere near as funny. Poop.
I almost got in a wreck on the way home. Someone pulled across three lanes to cut me off. To avoid hitting her, I swerved into the turn-lane. Someone then cut the lady who cut me off off, swerving into the turn lane dead in front of me. Double-cut offs. I slammed on my breaks, tires screeched, there was smoke. But we averted disaster.
In a few minutes the REAL birthday part will begin. I'm meeting some folks at my favorite margarita joint, Vivo's on Manor. Then, Roger and Amanda are taking me to a SXSW show for which we got guest-listed: a blues-fest! To top it off, Roger promises he's going to get on stage and jam on his harp. I'm bringing a camera for that!
So, happy birthday to me! Thank you all for your kind wishes. And I miss my old license.