I walked in at 10:30, prepared this time. I had my passport. I had my social security card, signed sloppily by 7-year-old me. I had a check stub. I had several pieces of mail. I had the vial of blood. I was ready to renew my driver’s license. Thirty minutes they told me, and I was given a slip of paper that said B42. *DING* The overhead display flashed the number B32. *DING* Before I could even sit down it read B33. This was going to be a breeze.
*DING* B34
*DING* B35
*DING* A48 Oh, okay. There were other numbers.
*DING* D34 It’s fine. The Bs are still moving quickly. I’m not worried.
*DING* *DING* *DING* *DING* What is going on? What happened to the Bs? 45 minutes I waited for the next B to come up. Did the person go on lunch break or something? I know the letters are for different things, so I assume that the Bs are probably all just license renewals and should take 5 minutes, ten minutes max. And there is more than one counter handling Bs. Again I ask, what is going on?
As another half hour passed with no more B dings, I began to get anxious. It was now a few minutes after noon, and my son’s bus was scheduled to drop him home from preschool at 12:45. But, you know, give or take 5 minutes. Normally I would just ask our neighbor, whose son also comes home on that bus, to grab him if I was going to be a few minutes late, but I had spoken with her that morning as the kids were getting onto the bus, and there was a chance she would not be there on time either. Her other children had doctor’s appointments, so I had agreed to grab both kids if she couldn’t make it quite on time. Not only was I responsible for my child, but for someone else’s. *DING* B38
I texted my wife at 12:15. What should I do? Could I possibly leave the DMV unlicensed after waiting there for two hours? And it was my last day of birthday grace period. If I walked out of there, I would be driving with no license. I clearly could not leave. But I did not want to go to jail for endangering two minors, so I clearly could not stay at the DMV. Although I could get pulled over and arrested for even driving home to get them, since I would have no license, so I clearly could not choose the glass of wine in front of ME! It’s so obvious! *DING* B39
I texted my neighbor. “How’s the dr. appointment going? Getting done early? <:)” No response. I texted another neighbor. “Are you home? Can you go meet the bus?” She was not home. She was at work. I texted another neighbor, who I knew was home because she runs a daycare out of her home. She had just put all the babies down for a nap. It was now 12:20. *DING* B40
Now I was sweating. I had to leave. I couldn’t stay there and have nobody meet the children. WON’T SOMEBODY THINK OF THE CHILDREN?! I am trying to think of the children, but if no one is there to meet them, the bus will just take them back to school, right? I will get yelled at, but they aren’t going to just leave a 4 and 5 year old on the side of the road… No, I have to go home. I stand up to leave. *DING* B41
I’M NEXT! ARGH! What do I do? “You’re not going to make it,” my wife texts me. “You have to leave.” It is a ten minute drive home, and now it is 12:25. My daycare neighbor texts back. She will run out right at 12:45 if I am not there, though it is not ideal. I thank her and vow to try and be home before the bus. It is 12:26. *DING* B42
“Well you just got right up here, didn’t you?” smiles the teller as I teleport to the counter instantly.
“My son’s bus is coming in less than 20 minutes!” I gasp, as I shove all of the blood and documents over the counter and stare pleadingly into her eyes.
“Then we’d better get you out of here,” she says quickly and with determination. Government was in action, and it was suddenly efficient. With a few flicks of the wrist her pen flew across my form while her other hand swiped my debit card. “Now, over here for the photo!” And we were off.
Photo taken, form filled out, I was directed over to the front desk to wait (WAIT?!) for my new license. By the time I got to the front she was already running over with my new card, hot off the presses. I grabbed it and shouted an insufficient thank you as I raced out to my car and leaped through the window “Dukes of Hazzard” style and peeled out of the parking lot. It was 12:39.
I am trying very hard not to be an aggressive D.C./Baltimore driver while living here in Vermont. It is a constant struggle, and one that I have to work on every day. That day, I failed. I was fast. I was furious. I turned the streets of the city into a Grand Prix the likes of which they have probably seen many times, since the town is full of high school students after all. As I screamed down the main drag toward my intersection, I saw it. The bus was also pulling up to the intersection, but from the other street on my right. The light was red for both of us, and I squealed to a stop as we faced off against each other, smoke rising from our nostrils and steam coming off our steering wheels as our hands melted into them. I waved to my son sitting on the bus. He didn’t see me. It was 12:45.
The light changed, but in my favor. Laughing in maniacal triumph I peeled out and left, swerving into my parking lot on two wheels, flying through the air, and landing perfectly into my parking spot. As soon as all four tires hit the ground I triggered the ejector seat and launched myself out into the courtyard. “I’m HERE!” I shouted to my daycare neighbor, who was just coming out of her door to get the children. “I made it!!!”
I ran over to the bus stop just as the bus was pulling up to the curb. Perfect timing. I stood next to my other neighbor, who had gotten back from the doctor’s with plenty of time, but had forgotten to turn her phone back on. Oh well. The important thing is that I was there for my son, and I got my new legal driver’s license. Just another day of doing the impossible over here in Tenor Dad parenting world, and I never have to go back to the DMV again. Or at least for another four years. I am awesome.