After about fifteen minutes, a bored looking thirty-something man in a tee shirt called my name and I walked on back to the first window. After presenting my birth certificate, he told me to stand in front of an electric blue background and, without smiling or blinking, wait for a flash. I had to stand there for two minutes before it came. The result was a picture of me looking like I was about to win a staring contest. It was not remotely attractive. I wondered why he took the picture before I had a chance to pass the test, but regardless he ushered me back to a row of four stall-like areas with computers and chairs to take the test. A girl about my age was seated at the first one, so I deposited my purse under the chair of the second section and sat down. After clicking on the ‘begin test’ button taking up a good part of the screen, it began. It wasn’t too hard of a test, but I was still a little relieved when the computer notified me that I had passed. So I went back up to the window (well, they call it a window, but it’s just a long curved table with people standing behind it, and they refer to them as window one, two, and so on) and the first man told me to sit back down and he would call me in a minute. So I did, and after telling my mom, who was sitting in the chair next to me, I took the time to text my sister and dad to tell them I passed. It only took about a minute before I was called back again and handed a paper learners permit. Apparently I’ll get the laminated one in the mail.
Thursday was my fifteenth birthday. A day I have been looking forward to for some time. After being woken up by a ‘Happy Birthday’ phone call from my maternal grandparents, I, well to perfectly honest, went back to sleep. And then after really waking up at nine seventeen, I got dressed and Mom drove me to the Department of Motor Vehicles. We were expecting it to be packed and crazy, but there were only about seven or eight other people there. So, I stood in line behind one other person, and gave the lady up front my birth certificate and diploma. At first, she didn’t want to except a diploma from a fifteen year-old, but eventually she had to. So she gave me a clipboard and a number, and I went back to sit down and fill out the information on the clipboard. While I was filling in such interesting information as whether I am male or female, my other grandmother called. I had forgotten to turn my phone off. So, I muted it, and proceeded to tell the form that I didn’t have any existing licenses in this or any other state. Once I was done, I handed it back to the woman, and sat back down to wait for the man at window one to call my number. I didn’t have to wait long, but I was so nervous it felt like I was sitting in that uncomfortable and ugly chair trying to remember all the obscure facts and rules from my drivers manual for well, scratch that I didn’t really lose track of time. It just makes things seem much more dramatic.