Growing up

29 09 2007

There came a turning point in my life when I realized I was growing up and there was no turning back. I used to wish that aliens from the planet Zeldar or some other thing from the infinite abyss of Outer Space would land on the earthly soil and jazz things up a little for the human population. As I got older, I started thinking, “You know, that sounds kinda dangerous.” And from then on, a full-scale extraterrestrial invasion wasn’t nearly so attractive to think about.

And now, I sit with my new Georgia driver’s license (transferred from Arizona) tucked safely in my wallet. I just got it today, and in record time thanks to the efficiency of the state’s “DDS” (not dentists) centers. Normally the DMV/MVD takes way way long, and you sit for extremely long periods of time moving your eyes between a scrap of paper printed with a cryptic letter and number and looking at the little LED signs above the booths that seem to hold the fate of the universe in their screens. You then let go for a while and listen to Robo-Woman of Doom announce the letters and numbers as you visually scan a room full of people who are scary as all heck and possibly are in there because of their vehicular violations. And then there’s the average folks and tons of teen drivers and their parents. (I did see an elderly lady come in that was hunched over and using a walker. She looked as if she could hardly direct her own body, much less a giant hunk of metal. I’m hoping she was accompanying someone else, but who knows.) So hurray for getting in and out of there in a half hour; they called my number so fast I barely got to finish my paperwork at each step before it was time to go on to the next one. And this is the South we’re talking about…

Now, sentimental sap that I am, I have strange feelings about my new card. The AZ license is gone now, and I’m glad I took a few pictures of it earlier before handing it over. It’s a marvel of beauty, with an image of the Grand Canyon in the background. I still have my learner’s permit with a hole punched in the top. But now I have a real license that reflects my current residence, and the picture actually resembles me this time. That’s a plus. Not that it’s currently much more than a piece of plastic at the moment, but it is now free of that pesky “UNDER 21, YOU GOON” notice that has dogged me for the last three over-21 years. And now, I can start moving forward with various plans that I’ve had in the wings for a while. More on that later.