In the past few weeks I've been enjoying delving into my distant past for subject matter for my ramblings. It's been fun to really think about specific times in my past and try to wring the fun out of them in the here and now, and it's been nice knowing that I can do so safely. Those days were long ago and far away from where I stand today. Part of the reason I can laugh at the mistakes of my past is that the person I was then is so different from the man I am today. The younger me paid the price for his errors; that bill was paid long ago.
Or so I thought until I tried to renew my North Carolina driver's license the other day.
You see, last Saturday was my birthday, and it happened to be on this particular birthday that my driver's license expired. So, first thing Monday afternoon, I drove over to the DMV, stood in line, took a number, and took a seat to await my turn with one of the fine, courteous, and capable* people staffing that location.
To pass the time, I amused myself by watching the other would-be drivers. I genuinely enjoy people-watching, and think everyone should spend at least a few hours a week at it. (I figure, if you've got to share the planet with other people, it's probably a good idea to have some sense of who those people are.) People-watching is easy, free, and there are only a couple of rules you need to keep in mind. First, people-watching is a lot like admiring animals at a zoo. As with the animals at the zoo, it's best if you avoid any actual contact with those whom you observe. Second, it's critical that you do your people-watching in different locations from time to time. The cross section of humanity you'll observe dining at a five-star restaurant is likely to be quite different from the sample you'll get at the farmer's market or, well... the DMV. Be careful not to draw broad-reaching conclusions based on small samples. (Based on the data I gathered while waiting for my number to be called, the average American is in his late seventies, speaks little or no English, and is roughly five months pregnant.)
The wonderful, courteous DMV staff finally called my number, and I got up, went over to the cubical to which I'd been directed, and sat back down. I handed the gentleman sitting across from me my expired driver's license, and recited my social security number for him when asked. He told me to sign my name on a small slip of paper, which I did, and then he looked at his computer screen, and asked me for my social security number again. I recited it. Again.
Houston, we have a problem...
"Have you ever been to Illinois?" I knew immediately that he wasn't asking me to go away with him for the weekend, but aside from the fleeting sense of relief that knowledge brought me, I knew this wasn't going to be good.
Houston, we have a problem in Illinois...
I paused before answering. He probably thought I had to think about whether I'd been there or when, but the only thing I needed to think about was how to ensure that the next words that came out of my mouth weren't expletives. "Yeah, like twenty-five years ago. Why?"
Of course I knew why.
Houston, we had a whole slew of problems in Illinois about twenty-five years ago...
I mean, I didn't know exactly, specifically why. I couldn't have told you right then exactly which specific stupid thing I'd done twenty-five years earlier had come back to bite me in the ass this time, but after you spend enough time being your own history's chew toy, you get a sense about these things.
The nice DMV guy explained that the state of Illinois had placed a block on my license, and gave me a phone number to call so that I could find out why, and hopefully get the issue resolved. When I called, a nice woman in Illinois explained that the block was due to my failure to pay a fee to reinstate my Illinois drivers license, after Illinois suspended it in 1982, subsequent to a DUI I got while back home in New York. I politely pointed to twenty-five years of proof that I had never needed to reinstate the license in question, and asked how I could be responsible for paying a "fee" for an activity that had never occurred. I could certainly understand if they claimed I'd failed to pay a fine for having my license suspended, but a fee for a reinstatement that never occurred?
Despite being thoroughly impressed with the flawless logic inherent in my own argument, I'm fairly pragmatic these days, and I knew my argument would never, ever win. I could rant and rave if I wanted, but in the end, I was going to have to pay whatever they demanded, because at the end of the day, Illinois can probably get by without my seventy-five bucks, but I really need that license. I did manage to get the nice woman from Illinois to acknowledge that there was no rational argument for claiming to need to reinstate a license I had not needed for twenty-five years, and that (without actually saying it, of course) this was really just a way for Illinois to get some money from me by holding my license hostage. I thanked her for her candor, and gave her my credit card information so she could charge me the "fee." She told me that I should be cleared to renew my North Carolina driver's license by next Monday, at the latest.
Of course, this means that until then I either have to stay home, or drive illegally. Driving with a suspended license for a few days is no big deal, so long as you don't get pulled over for anything. Right? Well, it should come as no surprise to anyone that it only took me until the very next morning to attract the attention of Raleigh's finest. While rushing to drop the kids off at school, I apparently rolled through a stop sign. (In my defense, I need to point out that I did not roll over it, just past it.) The cop was nice enough, as was the neatly printed citation he gave me for failing to stop and for driving with an expired license.
So, on the downside, I get to go to court at the end of the month, and pay a nice little fine. On the upside, it looks like I'm going to have another excellent opportunity for people-watching.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment