This morning I drove the dog over to West Seattle for a booster shot at the vet. When she was finished I decided, since I was already late for work, to drive over to the DMV in Westwood Village to renew my grossly expired driver’s license.
I waited there in the office, with the dog sitting in the truck, for more than an hour, clutching my little paper number and chatting with a libertarian MD from Oregon. He talked about how drivers’ licenses were unconstitutional (“they’re restricting your travel, you know? Freedom of movement!”) and how he wished “all the MEN” would just rise up and say that they were “sick of taking orders from other men”. I chuckled at him and said, “Oh those MEN…you know?”
“I know. Look at that guy up at counter five.”
“The one who looks like santa claus?”
“Yeah. Look at his suspenders.”
“He’s cute. I hope I get him when my number comes up.”
“He’s about due for a coronary.”
“…I guess you would know.”
“Say…have you ever been to Eugene, Oregon?”
We sat there and listened to a morbidly obese metro bus driver pacing back and forth and going “shit bullshit fuck goddamn sunufabitch!” and ocassionally farting. It was all classically DMV. I wanted to bail so bad, but I knew I had to stick it out. My shit had been expired for going on four months, and while I have never been pulled over, I hear that the cops don’t take too kindly to driving with an expired license.
When my number was called, I renewed quickly. I read some glowing letters, saw some blinky lights, confirmed my height and weight, took the worst photo in the history of state-issued ID’s and walked out the door with my brand new shitty paper license.
I hopped in the car and drove toward 99. I was really late for work, but was trying not to speed…that is, until I hit the battery street tunnel and slowed to take the blind curve before the exit. I guess I hit the accelerator a little hard coming out of it, because the next thing I knew it was all sun, blue sky, flashing lights, a booming “TAKE THE NEXT RIGHT TURN AND PULL OVER” and me going “goddamn shit fuck sunufabitch fuck.”
I pulled over, and parked on a hill pointing toward Dexter Ave. I watched him get out of the car and struggled to roll down my janky driver’s side window. I handed him my crappy paper license.
“I’m really sorry. I’m late for work after waiting an hour and a half to renew that thing. I wouldn’t normally shoot out of the tunnel like that.”
“Pull out your registration and proof of insurance, please. I’ll be right back.” He walked back to his car. I sighed very heavily and took the registration out of the visor. I leaned over to fish the proof of insurance out of the glovebox…
and then the dog puked.
I mean…and then the dog vomited her poor little guts out all over the passenger-side floor. I just watched her, going “oh no. Oh noooooo.”
The cop came back and I felt justified in letting him know that my dog was sick, in an attempt to evoke sympathy. He just wrinkled his nose and explained my ticket. I sighed again. He told me that since my record seemed to be totally clean, I could try talking to the magistrate and getting the ticket deferred, then eventually wiped from my record. I thanked him, took the piece of paper, and went on my way to work, where I spent a good amount of time cleaning up regurgitated kibble.
Best. Morning. Ever.