I have a pretty significant anxiety disorder. So, of course there's always a "need" to be nervous. I feel like I'm about to give a speech in front of 300 people at almost all times. But, I also have a bit of PTSD when it comes to all things DMV. So, of course I was going to be nervous. What bad DMV experiences could possibly have lead to this anxiety? Hmmm. Well there was the time I failed the eye test when I tried to pass it without glasses (thankfully, the lady gave me an immediate retest). There was the time I didn't have my social security card and the DMV rep flat out refused to consider any other form of identification, including my birth certificate, as proof of my citizenship. There was the time that a disgruntled Maryland DMV employee decided sua sponte to give me 4 names instead of 3 when I attempted to obtain a new license after getting married, never mind that the Social Security Administration had already permitted me to drop my pre-marriage middle name. You see, at the DMV, all logic disappears at the door. It doesn't matter how poignant your arguments or how sweet your tone. The employees behind the desk are the gatekeepers and if your documentation doesn't exactly comport with the stringent DMV lists of supporting documents, that dog won't hunt.
Adding to my DMV PTSD anxiety (I'm sure that's a condition in the DSM V), was the fact that my out-of-state license was set to expire in (gulp) 9 calendar days. So, everything had to go smoothly or I would be unable to drive. Living in a town where there's no public transportation, being unable to drive is just not an option. Also, if my out-of-state license expired, I might have to retake the driver's test ... in a state that requires one to be able to [insert dramatic music here] parallel park.
Having grown up in a state that didn't require parallel parking in order to obtain a license, I've never learned to do it. As they say in Clueless, "What's the point? Everywhere you go has valet." In my defense, I did actually attempt to learn to parallel park from my driving instructor.. Since my instructor didn't have cones in the car the night I asked to learn to parallel park, he required another student in the car to act as a cone. Shockingly, this didn't work out so well. So, I never learned to parallel park despite having lived in a pretty urban area for the past 8 years.
Sitting in the Texas DMV, I tried to calm down and remind myself that this was going to be just fine. My glasses prescription wouldn't fail me. I had every document I could possibly need to identify myself: out of state license, proof of residency, passport, birth certificate, social security card, military identification, proof of out-of-state insurance, proof of Texas insurance, my newly obtained (from a different government office) vehicle registration, and my certified marriage license. Short of providing a DNA sample, there wasn't anything else I could possibly need. I was prepared to become a Texan.
Finally, it was my turn to approach the counter. The DMV employee started asking for documentation, and I proudly provided everything requested. I passed that eye test with flying colors. I could distinguish between red and green lights (not that this was ever a concern). I only blinked once during the attempts at taking the photograph. And then, much to my delight, it was official. I was handed my...wait what? What? I don't get my actual license today. It's going to arrive in the mail in 7 days? Oh, you're given me a piece of paper to use as a temporary license...Well, okay.
And that is how, on a rainy day in early November, I officially became a Texan. Texas forever.
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