Monday, November 29, 2010

Ms. Richardson or How I learned to love the Bureaucracy.

Stab me in the face. Put me out of my misery. It'll be a kindness.

This tale of woe starts about a week and an half ago in Denton, Texas. I have lost my cell phone once in Denton, Texas. Then two weeks ago, I lost my wallet in Denton, Texas. Joy! So I lost my wallet on Thursday, then the weekend, then we went to Alabama for a week. Today has been the first day that I have been able to start the renewal process. As it turns out, I think it might be easier to buy a gun in Texas than it is to renew a lost driver's license.

Yesterday I cried in a Dallas County Clerk's office. What is the aptitude test result that leads someone to this job? Highly suited for work as dictator of small Latin American country or low-level bureaucratic monkey. Shows a proficiency towards rigidity and cool dismissiveness.

As it turns out, if you have lost your driver's license and have no other picture ID, then you need your birth certificate to get it replaced. To get a duplicate copy of your birth certificate you need a picture ID. Ashley and the Vicious Circle.

So there I am, I've gotten spiffed up, since I think I will be taking a license picture later that day, tears are welling up in my eyes. The conversation goes something like this.

Me: So my mother will have to leave work and come over here and get a copy. She has her driver's license.

Her: Or your father....

Me: Yeah, he's dead.

Her: Oh, or a spouse or a sibling...

Me: Don't have one of those either.

At this point I gather up my three forms of unacceptable identification and scoot outside. Where's the fire, you ask? Why so rushed and harried? It's not like you have never driven for two months on an expired license before, Ash.

I'm glad you asked. I am flying to Chicago in eight days. I need a picture ID or they will never let me on the plane! Upon further examination, I find that it may take up to THREE weeks for my spankin' new license to arrive in the mail. Nice. I'm up the river, toast, spent.

I ring up Allie at Southwest Airlines for help outta this pickle. Allie probably scored saint on her aptitude test. She assures me that my paper license, expired passport and social security card should get me through airport security, just fine. Do you hear that? It's choirs of angels.

What does this mean? What point, exactly, are you driving at, Ash? Guaranteed PATDOWN!


  1. "TSA: If we were any better at our jobs, we'd have to buy you dinner first."

  2. On the off chance that you escape with "only" a full-body scan, you might consider a set of these:

  3. Well its nice to know its easier to fly than drive in Texas.

  4. Ma Chroma Lab, any bra that comes in S, M, or L would weep at the sight of me.

  5. Ha! Me too, but for the opposite reason.