Adventures at the DMV

...and I'm Hungover

Birthday Hat
Birthday Hat | Source

When Birthday Meets Responsibility

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Do I Look Ok?

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It's My Birthday!

Originally authored May 3, 2007

Laaaaawd let me tell you a story. So, this being the 25th Anniversary of my arrival on this Earth, my driver's license expired. Being in Emerald Isle, I decided to go to the Morehead City DMV to get a new one. Let's back up....

Last night I went to the bar to continue the "Week of Meg" celebration. I decided that since I'm moving to New York next month I wanted my new license to look as redneck as possible. Now, if you know anything about my hair you know that it likes to get quite puffy and very white trash-ish when humidity is introduced. I concocted this plan to not shower before going to get my hideous DL picture to ensure some hot, yes-I-was-in-a-bar-last-night-and-yes-it-was-Wednesday-don't-judge-my-hangover hair. Luckily, I walked 4 miles home from the bar (giving myself inspirational speeches--yes out loud--yes I was by myself--yes it was 1AM), thus inspiring some hot trailer-type hair. To add onto it, I decided to not wash my face last night before passing out, so my whore paint was still in full effect this morning. Unfortunately, I had to wash it off in order to get my eyes to open wide enough for me to see the road. I didn't think that driving off the Emerald Isle bridge on my way to the DMV was a good way of convincing the state of NC to continue to allow me to operate a motor vehicle--and the occasional farm equipment. Yes, I'm from North Carolina. Don't judge.

So anyway, after wiping off the smeared mascara/eye liner/bar sludge from my eyes I was lucky enough to discover that it had irritated the skin under my eyes enough to give the look of red bags. Not dark circles, but red bags. I love being Irish/Italian because my face doesn't know how to handle anything.

I get all hookered up to go and realize I have to walk the 4 miles back to the bar to get my car. It is my lucky day because it's like 90 degrees outside so I start sweating the smell of bar out of my pours. Sexy.

Where Am I?

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Fishin' Stories

I get in my car and drive to Morehead City (I can't say MOREHEAD enough....it makes me giggle). I decide to make a right onto Hwy 70 and drive, oh let's say 8.2 miles before realizing I'm going the wrong way. Being a smart lady, I stop for directions at the Crystal Coast Visitor's Center. There was a nice older gentleman working behind the counter talking to some lovely tourists from Maryland (they were very proud of that and announced it like 200 times in 3 minutes--like we couldn't already tell they weren't "from round these parts"). ***Sidebar*** The aforementioned lovely older gentleman actually said "My daddie use to go fishin' outchair' near the jettiiie." Does it get any cuter?

Anyway, 10 minutes later they are still discussing fishing permits--which turned into a state pissing contest, "Well back in Maryland...blah, blah, blah". No one cares. Go back to Maryland, you jackass and get out of my way. This lady comes up to me and asks if I am finding everything ok. I finally get to ask directions. She sort of shook her head like she was disappointed in me and directed me back in the direction I came.

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What Time Is It?

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Bojangles Had To Make An Appearance

Realizing that I have no cash, it's my birthday, and I'm in Morehead City, I stop at a gas station to visit the ATM so I can stop at the greatest place on earth: BOJANGLES. I get a $20 bill from the machine and listen to the cashier ask to this dude's age who was trying to buy a lottery ticket. He said, "Lady, I'm 25. Would you like to see some ID?" Why is this significant? Because it took ALL that I had not to scream, "I'M 25 TOO!!!"

After stopping at the Bojangles, I proceed to the DMV. I parked next to a car with Delaware plates-I think they were lost too-and wander in. They have a "new" system where you get a ticket according to what you need and then a big sign that lights up tells you when it is your turn. Apparently the good people of MOREHEAD City don't have much in the way of technology because there was seriously a discussion about how high tech the DMV was now. What? Someone actually said, "It's just like being in an airport!" I have no idea what that lady was talking about because it was nothing like being in an airport. Do they have "Now serving passenger A134 at gate 13 for a departing flight to Panama..." machines in airports now? Then this dude entered who had a tattoo down the back of his forearm that said "Southern". Turns out, he just moved here from Georgia. Yeah, couldn't tell. I won't describe his girlfriend because it ain't right to judge folks on their appearance.

Time To Get Serious

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My Number Is Up

Finally, my number is called and I sit down and the lady asks me "Have you lived in North Carolina for the last 12 months?" Ummmm. My reply, "Officially I have. I never changed my residency." (I left out the detail that I had bounced around Colorado, New Jersey and Texas for the past few years-that would have taken too long to explain.) "Ok, honey. You've lived here for the last 12 months then." I think that saved her some paperwork. Then it was time for the signs test. I was zipping right through like I knew what was up until the last 3. Sign #10 kicked my ass. It was an orange circle with no writing. Are you kidding me? The next one was an orange house looking sign. I skipped #10 and said that the house one was "Pedestrian Crossing". So she asks, "Where are they going?" Are you serious? I answered, "Across the street?" How the hell am I supposed to know where the imaginary people are going on a blank orange sign? Come on, North Carolina! Shape up! She explained that they're kids. Oh, so it's a school crossing? Who cares as long as I don't run the little bastards over! We go back to the dreaded orange circle. I have no idea what it is. I have been driving for 9 years and she had to give me another hint. "It has a big X on it"....Hello, railroad crossing. I would know that if it wasn't a blank orange circle, assclown! Sadly, I think that's the second time I had to get help on that sign. At least I'm not running over pedestrians!

She passes me and tells me that it is $4 per year for 8 years for a grand total of $32. I only had $15 left over from Bojangles. They don't take credit cards (where is their great technology now?).

I had to leave the DMV to go to yet another gas station to hit up an ATM. I came back and sat in the chair for my lovely picture. North Carolina licenses now have HUGE head shots, so my red bags were in clear view. I'm not sure what my white trash 'fro was doing, but it was as beautiful as a mullet in the springtime. Mission accomplished!

I Ain't Mad At Cha

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Success....?

I walked out, pleased as punch until I looked at my height. I have not been 5'6" since I was 15. I started lying about being 5'7" when I was like 9. I cursed the DMV out loud and accused them of calling me short and then said hello to the pedestrian witness in the parking lot. He's lucky I didn't run him over just to get revenge on the DMV.

I love North Carolina and my new redneck license!

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