Citizen Texan

I finally got around to getting a driver's license today. This process was prolonged because of the 30+ years of Arizona Department of Motor Vehicle PTSD I've suffered. 

You see, in Arizona, one doesn't merely walk into a DMV location, fill out a form, and get a license. Oh no! One packs a lunch, leaves a forwarding address, makes plans for their plants to be watered, pets to be fed and brings a paperback (I'm from an older generation). Then, they fill out the requested forms, sit on a very hard chair and wait their turn until a government employee behind a glass barrier calls for them. If the employee behind the glass barrier who calls for them smiles in any way, it is fair to assume the applicant has gone to the wrong location. 

The non-smiling employee behind the glass barrier will then ask a bunch more questions, give a lot more paperwork, take the applicant's money and make them sit back down and wait. My best record is 200 pages read one Tuesday afternoon waiting for my license. By the way, for those who aren't in the know, some time in the past several years, Arizona changed their driver's licenses' expiration dates to one's 65th birthday and then have to be renewed periodically afterwards. So, this isn't a process that happens very often anymore. Fortunately.  

The other reason I waited so long is simple vanity. You see, for some unfathomable reason--and I assure you, people smarter than myself have put thought into this--in my third week living in Texas I got a hair cut. The owner of the shop assured me she'd been in business 27 years and knew what she was doing. I looked at the reviews ahead of time, seeing high accolades for the shop owner (in hindsight, probably from bald family members) and when I walked in, I specifically asked for the owner. 

And you know what that awful woman did??? She gave me a mullet. 

No kidding. I've been walking around with a mullet for the past six months. Every so often, I hack at my bangs, trying to make the hair on the side seem longer than the hair in the front, but it doesn't change the horror that was done. My stylist in Arizona has seen me twice since this happened (once after Dad passed away, and once in May when I took Buck to visit a friend). My new stylist here saw me today and can't figure it out either. The best the two stylists could do with what I have left is give me something like the "Rachel" from Friends. I figure I have six more months before the whole thing grows out.

At any rate, I got my hair cut and styled today and then went straight over to the DMV. I brought a book. However, from the time I walked in until the time I left, it was about 12 minutes. That includes waiting in line behind two other people. I filled out my forms. Took my eye test. And I watched everyone behind the counter smile and laugh, making me question if I was indeed, getting a driver's license. They assured me I was.