I think those police who are in charge of giving you your driver's licenses and permits are evil. They are sent by Satan to wreak havoc on 15 and 16 year old's minds. I have not encountered one of these people who is remotely nice or sympathetic. The reason is this: these are not real cops. They know this fact deep down in their black hearts, and it makes them bitter. Therefore, the aforementioned fake cops must make the test/paperwork/waiting-in-line part as excrutiatingly painful as possible. But one question: ...what the hell?! My first experience was with a rather un-scary looking female fake-cop when I went to get my permit. I was a nervous, unassuming 15 year old who was not prepared for the emotional/mental brutality of these people. When I had to put my face up to this thing, the woman didn't say anything besides, "Light." So I put my face up to this thing and look through. Blackness. A tiny red dot. What was I supposed to do? So I look up, scared out of my mind (for at this point, she looks like she wants me for lunch) and ask what to do. The whole scene is repeated about 3 times before my mother tells the woman to let me know what to do. Go mom.
I go in for my license and, as I walk through the door, I say a silent prayer of thanks that evil bitch cop isn't behind the tall, white counter. INstead, a rather portly-looking gentleman gestures for me to come up to the counter. I hand him my papers and my permit and wait while he looks it over. He tells me that my permit says my exam date was December 4 of last year. Well that couldn't be right! I took it on December 2, I'm positive. Then he says, "Are you aware that you have to have this permit for a year and a day?" Today? It's the third. Friday. Not open Sunday. Must come back Monday. I uttered some words (I know not what) and he proceeded to repeat a thousand more times that I have to hold the permit for a year and a day. I finally tell him that, yes, I'm aware of that. I look at the man, his fat, white flesh and his round white head. In an instant, I hated him. Hated him like I"ve never hated anyone in my entire life. I know, poor guy, he didn't deserve my hate- he didn't magically change the date on my permit (oh yes he did that evil little fat man)- but I had to find fault. And it's quite convenient to hate the man who turned me away from getting my license. The whole blaming thing goes back to, you know, when you were little, and you broke something, and you blamed it on your imaginary friend jimbob. Well....nevermind. Anyways....I stared blankly, in complete shocked horror, into the evil fake cop's eyes and then look to my dad, because daddies fix everything. My dad just said ok!!! He said ok??? WHAT????? The bright lights and obnoxiously high white counter are suddenly too much to take and as I slide my papers off the counter and turn away, tears spill down my face. Why me? Why now, today, of all days? I've been going on all week about getting my license Friday and I set this day, Dec. 3, 1999, as the most important day of my teenage life. I sobbed the whole way home- in a silent car that should have been mine that day (silent because, the day before, the radio in my car died. Convenient.) So, when I get home, I lock myself in the computer room and curl up in the fetal position in my big, puffy, spinny chair and sob my eyes out. The point of this was....traffic cops and cops that sit behind tall, white counters are not real cops; your driver's license is your most important posession; and....fake cops are evil. And that's all.
UPDATE: I received my license the following Monday, because I am an amazingly wonderful driver. The same fat guy fake cop was behind the counter and as I strolled up after my victorious driving session and slammed the papers down on the counter. (well, not slammed, exactly. they do have guns.) I leaned down towards him and said "I'm baa-aaack!" And after watching his startled glance, i said, "Remember me?" *accompanied with evil caroline-grin*
mwahahahaha!!!!!!