Karma, aka a spillers fate

Hi all, this is Chris.


Andree told me I had to blog about my fabulous trip to the dmv down here in good ol' Las Vegas. So here goes.





Day 1: 1pm (insert law and order sound in your head)


--I arrive at the dmv to get a Nevada driver's license with a little light reading to help me wade through the down time I would soon encounter. I get in line, realize I have no pen to fill out the form, go back to my car, register to vote on the way in, and get back in line. I get my number twenty minutes later and sit down.


2pm (again.....insert law and order sound here)


--Finally my number is called and I confidently head over to station number twenty three. After some research, a little dirt is dug up on my criminal driving record. As it turns out, I have three moving violations (aka vehicular movement above and beyond what is required) in a period of one year. There I confessed it. My head dropped as he told me what my punishment was....taking the written test! I dejectedly headed to the testing center.


2:15pm (.....)


--After walking into the dead quiet testing center before my cue, I was greeted warmly by the dmv drone and given a testing station. I quickly noticed the "this is not an open book test!" sign and politely excused myself to go study.


3:00pm (....)


--After some intense moments of nervousness I pass the test, barely. One more and I would have failed. I head out to get another number.


3:30PM (...)


--After a little more light reading I get the call to be the next contestant at station number twenty six. I head on down and procure the required paperwork. After a few tense moments of more research, it is discovered that I have to do the drivers test also!! I felt like I was fifteen again as I strode over to ask when I could take the test.


3:45 (..)


--As it turns out, the drivers testing station won't take appointments until Oct. 1 and I need it done by Monday when school starts. So it goes. I ask my options and quickly figure out my best option is arriving at the dmv the next morning as early as possible to get in line as a stand-by.


4:00pm (.)


I storm out of the dmv in a calm and dignified fashion.





Day 2: 4am (law and order sound please)


--Awake and alert I arrive at the dmv twelve hours later and put down my camping chair behind five other poor unfortunate souls. The first has gotten here at two thirty this morning (can anyone say day after Thanksgiving sale?). It is dark and I only brought books to read so I wait....and wait...and wait....



6am (......)

--The rising sun rescues me from total boredom and I open my book to read. By this time about twenty more people have joined us. There is little talk, especially in the front. We have woken up at some unimaginable time to go to the dmv so we are not in the best of moods as it turns out. We are especially grumpy when a fourth, boisterous "get out the vote" campaigner harasses us to register once again.



7:45am (.....)

--A very loud dmv drone greets us and tells us how it's going to go down. We are to be filed into the dmv entrance and given numbers. When our numbers are called we have to procure the EXACT right documents or else we are doomed to a lower number, or another early morning. The guy in front of me forgot his registration in his car glove box yesterday and they would not allow him the thirty seconds it would have taken to go get it. He is here another day (he is the two thirty am candidate mentioned above) to try his luck. As it turns out later, he has the wrong color tail lights to warrant any attention by Nevada drivers and has to go home to get them replaced. He will try his luck another day, again.



8:00am (....)

--After three and half hours of waiting followed by thirty minutes of terror I get a number and enter the dmv to wait until a cancellation, an event I hope will occur before the dmv's lunch time at eleven.



10:11am (...)

--For just over two hours I have been gathering the inside scoop on the test. I learn, or re-learn, how to be a cautious fifteen year old driver. Hand placement is key, followed by mirror and blind spot checks, and of course mastering parallel parking. It is common knowledge that it comes down to blind luck from the parking gods, and sacrificing a pig can only help your chances.

They call my name and I go greet the woman who holds my fate in her hands.



10:15am (..)

--The pimpmobile (aka lincoln continental) passes the test and apparently DOES have the right-colored tail lights that nevadans recognize. The examiner politely tells me that we cannot talk during the test as she has a job to do, and I have an impossible task ahead of me that requires all my attention: driving the correct way (afterwords I wonder how safe it was to be so focused on proper driving technique that I failed to notice a single street sign, tuned out the ambient noise, and saw nothing in my peripheral vision). We venture out of the dmv and start down the streets of Las Vegas. For those of you who don't know, there is a lot of traffic everywhere in Vegas and stop lights frequently take near two minutes to change. I mention this fact because the incessant pounding, yes pounding, of the blinker as we sat in dead silence at a stoplight reduced me to a twenty four year old nervous wreck. I was sweating and fidgeting like a freshmen giving a speech in English class. And no, imagining the examiner in her underwear did not help in this situation.



10:30am(.)

--The vehicle comes to a stop, and I anxiously await the news. Will I be waking up early the next morning to do it all again? Was my attempt at parallel parking, and lack of pig sacrifices, enough to get the job done? The answer was yes, but barely! I made too many maneuvers while parallel parking and forgot to check my blind spot twice. I pass with a 91, however, and with silent jubilation head into the dmv to finish the impossible task of getting a Nevada license.



10:50am

--Another boring dmv drone tries to help out my poor, pathetic soul in my quest. After some signatures I head over to get my picture taken. Ten minutes later I am presented with my holy grail: a license. I stride out of the dmv with some of my self-esteem restored and head home. Watch out Nevada drivers! Here I come!