Getting my permit today wasn't an easy feat. After giving the road signs a cursory glance this morning, I rushed to the multicolored, peculiarly shaped JR Thompson Building on Clark and Lake (a bit of an eye-sore, in my opinion, definitely not the best of Chicago architecture). I hoped and hoped that there would be a short line at the Secretary of State office because with each passing second, road signs and rules were slipping out of my brain. Do you turn your wheels towards the direction in which you're hydroplaning or no? What did the "slow moving vehicle" sign look like? Shoot. My cheeks reddened with embarrassment as the prospect of failing this exam shot thru my head. And then my heart sank. The line was almost out of the door!
Did I tell anyone I was taking the exam today? No one has to know if I failed, right?
When it was my turn in line, a lady, overworked and nonchalant, gave me a service ticket that read F658. "Wait for you number to be called," she mumbled and waved me away. Completed dejected by my bad luck, I found a seat next to a couple who were not afraid to exhibit PDA...
I waited and waited. I used up all of my five lives on Candy Crush, killed a few zombies on Plants vs. Zombies 2, listened to 4 chapters of my new literature adventure Far from the Tree by Andrew Solomon, while in the background, the intercom intermittently announced "now serving A027 at counter number 3", "B223, D024...". I grew more and more restless. I stretched my calves and pointed my toes to avoid DVT and then began to nervously shaking my legs due to impatience and need to use the restroom.
Finally, during my third attempt to beat my high score in Temple Run, F658 was announced. I was positively fuming by then. There will be no pleasantries, no smiles, and if anyone gave me an attitude, I will not hesitate to call the manager...I will take this matter up with Jesse White if I have to! I stomped to counter number 10, laid down my state ID, and announced, "I am here for my driver's permit." The little white lady, almost too short for the height of the counter, gently took my ID and said, "Oh, first time, honey? Don't worry, it's easy." She smiled a smile that showed her gums and sharp canine teeth not so different from my own. The sheet of ice that surrounded me shattered and fell into the ground as water. "Oh really? I hope I pass!" I smiled so sheepishly that I think my small eyes disappeared into my face.
And, everything was fine and dandy from there. The "slow moving vehicle" sign is a weird yellow triangle with broken orange borders around it, and I still do not how to go control my car if it's hydroplaning. But, I passed with flying colors and got myself a Chick Fil-A meal for a pat on the back.
Get ready, world! I have graduated the sidewalks and will take over the streets in a storm! Under the speed limit, of course :-)
Did I tell anyone I was taking the exam today? No one has to know if I failed, right?
When it was my turn in line, a lady, overworked and nonchalant, gave me a service ticket that read F658. "Wait for you number to be called," she mumbled and waved me away. Completed dejected by my bad luck, I found a seat next to a couple who were not afraid to exhibit PDA...
I waited and waited. I used up all of my five lives on Candy Crush, killed a few zombies on Plants vs. Zombies 2, listened to 4 chapters of my new literature adventure Far from the Tree by Andrew Solomon, while in the background, the intercom intermittently announced "now serving A027 at counter number 3", "B223, D024...". I grew more and more restless. I stretched my calves and pointed my toes to avoid DVT and then began to nervously shaking my legs due to impatience and need to use the restroom.
Finally, during my third attempt to beat my high score in Temple Run, F658 was announced. I was positively fuming by then. There will be no pleasantries, no smiles, and if anyone gave me an attitude, I will not hesitate to call the manager...I will take this matter up with Jesse White if I have to! I stomped to counter number 10, laid down my state ID, and announced, "I am here for my driver's permit." The little white lady, almost too short for the height of the counter, gently took my ID and said, "Oh, first time, honey? Don't worry, it's easy." She smiled a smile that showed her gums and sharp canine teeth not so different from my own. The sheet of ice that surrounded me shattered and fell into the ground as water. "Oh really? I hope I pass!" I smiled so sheepishly that I think my small eyes disappeared into my face.
And, everything was fine and dandy from there. The "slow moving vehicle" sign is a weird yellow triangle with broken orange borders around it, and I still do not how to go control my car if it's hydroplaning. But, I passed with flying colors and got myself a Chick Fil-A meal for a pat on the back.
Get ready, world! I have graduated the sidewalks and will take over the streets in a storm! Under the speed limit, of course :-)
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