After lunch with Jenny and Robyn Tuesday, I impulsively decided I would go have my driver’s license replaced. Seems when I cashed a check a couple of weeks ago I accidentally threw it away inside the bank envelope.
I’ve been putting off getting a new one because I was afraid they would have to take my picture and it is rare for me to have fixed hair, make-up and decent clothes all on one occasion. Since it was unlikely those planets were going to align again anytime soon, the solar system dictated the Tuesday window not be missed.
Returning home from City In Between, I had to pass through the town where the court house is located. I hadn’t planned on making the stop but did anyway hoping I would have enough identification to simply print a duplicate. As is usually the case, my imaginations on how things should work and the reality of how they in fact actually do are worlds apart.
I knew when Luke and I first had our licenses issued in Alabama that we had to bring everything but the doctor who delivered us to the office to prove our identity. I accept that. But call me naive, I’m thinking if I’ve already provided all that info once and my picture is on file in the computer system then all one should have to do is look at said photo, my social security card, my utilities bill and surmise that yes, I am indeed Lisa McKay.
Turns out getting the replacement was the same process as having one issued. So, because Tuesday had to be the day (remember the planets were aligned!) I went all the way home, retrieved the documents and rushed back before the office closed.
A precious girl by the name of Trudy waited on me. If precious court house employee isn’t an oxymoron I don’t know what is but I’ve never met a government worker so happy to be doing her job in all my life. Apparently I was her ‘baby girl’ and ‘sunshine’ because she referred to me as one or the other no less than 20 times.. Then, and this is the best part, she posed me (Chin a little higher up, Sunshine! Oh yes, baby girl..that’s a keeper!) to make absolute sure my picture was cute. Have you ever? It may possibly be the first time I have a driver’s license photo in which I don’t look like Nick Nolte’s latest mug shot.
So, I’m done with the photo shoot and am expecting my laminated card to pop out of a machine somewhere when Trudy tells me I should receive it in about 30 days. 30 days? Does anything take 30 days in this day and time? Oh, but wait. I live in Alabama. Here we are still using a printing process akin to Fred Flintstone’s time clock in which he puts a slab of granite in a dinosaur’s mouth so he can chomp down the info with his teeth.
Trudy explains that she will be giving me a paper copy of my license. She hit ‘Print’ and then I see a concerned look cross her face. Not good. Trudy Concerned is also an oxymoron. “Sweet darlin’ baby girl, I need you to look here on my screen.” In giant red letters, an alert said: MUST SEE EXAMINER. UNRESOLVED VIOLATION.
What? I don’t have unresolved violations!? There are many things as yet unresolved in my life (Should I cut my hair short? What color do I paint my fingernails? What is God’s will for my life?) but as far as I know they all fall within the realm of legal. Come to find out, the State of Georgia had not cleared a Click It Or Ticket that I got almost two years ago so I had to leave the courthouse and go to the Examiner’s office so she could inquire on her computer (which is different than the courthouse computer – must be different breed of dinosaurs inside the machine) as to whether or not I am indeed a fugitive. Trudy was so devastated and called ahead for me so that I could “go straight to the front of the line, sweet thang”. I did (thank you, Trudy) and after all of stinkin’ that, Examiner Lady tells me it was fine all along.
Thank you. Thank you for making me drive all the way over here to tell me that when you could have just LOOKED IT UP AND TOLD TRUDY SO THAT SHE WOULDN’T BE CONCERNED about her Sunshine.
I have no witty ending except to say I finally go my driver’s license (with an acceptable picture – Thanks, Trudy!). Kicker is, they expire in December so I get to start all over again.
Here’s hoping I find a day in the next three months when I have fixed my hair, worn makeup and decent clothes all at one time. Maybe I can ride to the Examiner’s Office on the same Hale-Bopp Comet that will most certainly be crossing the sky in front of the total eclipse during a meteor shower.