Imagine that you are about to leave for a work conference and vacation. Imagine that a few hours before your plane leaves, your co-worker tells you this funny little story about a friend of hers that could not go on her vacation because she had accidentally let her driver’s license expire (which meant she could not board the plane). Now, imagine that after hearing this story, you casually look in your wallet, just to be doubly sure that you would not be so stoopid, only to find that YES, you HAD been so stoopid, and that YOUR driver’s license had indeed expired oh, about two months ago.
After filling my pants, releasing a primal scream and putting forth a foul stream of expletives that would make George Carlin blush like a Catholic schoolgirl, I raced to my doctor’s office. (Every time I renew my driver’s license, I need a signed medical report from my doctor, since I had one teensy weensy seizure about 15 years ago.) The doctors call it a grand mal. I call it the hippy hippy shakes. Semantics.
So I get to my doc’s office and inform them that I had a total of two hours to procure a signed medical report, get my license, drive to the airport and hop a plane. I told them that if they could not simply put an “X” in these here boxes and have my doctor of 10 years sign this paper, I would probably get fired for missing a work conference and would forfeit a $3,000 non-refundable vacation. Instead of saying “Of course we can help you. You are a valued patient. And since we, too, are human beings, we will X these here boxes and sign this form for you.” But unfortunately, that is not how things went down. The reception bitch said “Sorry, all booked up today. Can’t help you out.”
Now what kind of inhuman shit is THAT? I mean, that is no way to talk to someone who is about to have a cerebral hemorrage in your waiting room, now is it? Recognizing that the medical bots had not yet been programmed to say “yes,” I took off like a bat out of hell for the DOT. At this point, it’s not like a they could take away my license for going 80 in a 35.
Once I got there and shared my tale of woe and desparation, these helpful people summoned their inner Charlton Heston and damn near parted the Red Seas for me. Since I did not have a medical form, they called the state medical examiner (whom I’m sure was busy doing some crazy-ass CSI shit at the time) to get me approved.
Within one hour, I was sitting at a testing terminal, answer all sorts of driving questions about stopping distance and sign shapes and right-of-way. I was ONE QUESTION from failing that damn test, people. But I passed, and that’s all that matters. It’s not like they pardon your next speeding ticket just because you aced your driver’s test. And now, I am sitting on a boat in the middle of the Pacific writing this true story.
Now if you will excuse me, my laptop and I are getting some odd looks from a man wearing a thread-bare Panama Jack tank top and some bitchin’ Oakleys.
If I were you, I would have had the second grand mal seizure of my life…my heart races just thinking about it (hmmm–better take MY meds).
Thank God your friend shared that travel horror story–and that those fab government workers in the mostly friendly Midwest worked overtime to get you on that plane. Providence!
Totally ironic that the DMV would actually be kind and helpful! Seriously, I didn’t think those people were human!
Having my eyeballs ripped from my skull with rusty old pliers is far less painfull than even thinking about getting within 25 miles of a DMV office.
Great story. I had to renew my license plates the other day and the only time I’m in town during office hours is Saturday morning. Like everyone else, I dread a trip to the DMV like the dentist.
Suprisingly, there were only TWO people in fron of me when I walked in. One was in the wrong line, so he disappeared rather quickly. I was in and out in 5 minutes.
This story doesn’t have a point, but I’m telling everybody.
Makes me glad I ordered that official copy of my birth certificate to verify I’m me. In NJ, we now have to prove our identity with a thousand signature peition and a note from mom stating that we can continue to drive. And THAT’s just for a non-expired renewal!
I hope you’re drunk or buzzed or on something. Every. Single. Day.
Enjoy the vacation!
Wow! Close call!
Take care and enjoy your vacation!
I hate to speculate but there is a pretty good freaking chance no one would have noticed your license expired. But I am such a rule-follower that I would have had exactly the same freakout as you. In fact, I was freaking out reading about it.
My sis applied for a job at the DMV. For the typing test, you have to type 25 WPM. That killed me. Every other job on earth, they want you to test at 50 WPM but no, 25 is good enough for the good ol DMV.
I’m like Sue — such a rule follower that when I realized that I would be driving home to Georgia from Virginia from my father’s funeral two days after my license expired, and my new one was waiting in my mailbox (having arrived in my absence), I had some friends pick it up and overnight it to me on the off-off-off chance of being pulled over for some nonsensical something. Murphy’s law being what it is, I knew that if I had the new one with me, I would drive on through without incident, but if I didn’t have it, I would surely be stopped. It would be easy enough to prove that I had just been out of state to my father’s funeral while my license was waiting at my house, but I didn’t even want to go there.