I have lost count of the number of times I have been to the DMV with Nastia to get her permit and have yet to give her the opportunity to pass or fail the test.
This adventure started a few days after her sixteenth birthday. We gathered together the papers we needed and went up to the DMV only to be told that most of her identification was not useable. I had copies of her adoption papers and her passport had just expired, and you get the picture.
One time we did make it to the eye test which she failed miserably. She couldn't even read one letter on the chart.
It took Us time and over $500.00 to get her hard contacts that improved her sight and were comfortable for her to wear.
Sometime in late February or early March we tried again. This time the identification papers were no good. We needed originals, not copies. The originals had been misplaced. Teri thought she had given them to me and in the packet she gave me they weren't there, so I figured she changed her mind and so we looked and looked and looked some more. We knew they were in the house, they hadn't left, had never been taken outside since we brought them home. THEY WERE HERE!! Just hiding.
A few weeks went by and we had exhausted all the places we thought they were in and several places we knew they weren't. We were at the point of looking in places we'd looked in two and three times before.
Teri had a job interview scheduled with Orange and Rockland for a Friday and she went up stairs to a small rack of clothes I'd moved several times while insulating the attic. The rack started in the front eastern portion towards the road, then was moved to the north corner and then it was lowered, then it was moved to the western section of the attic, north side, then finally it was moved to deep into the north end to get it out of the way. On it was Teri's wedding dress, and a bunch of plastic bags and purses of her's. She was looking for a good purse to go with the outfit she was wearing to the interview when she came across the papers. She called me and gave me the good news. Now if O&R would only call.
DMV is open late on Thursdays, so Nastia and I decided to go on Thursday. I gather together the papers she will need. The adoption decree, her birthday certificate (in Russian), her out dated passport, I'm still hoping they will accept it. She still is who she is, that didn't change. I added her school ID, with a report card and her social security card. With all these papers I added the eye test paper. signed by Dr. Blumenthel and myself. Take note and see where this goes...
Where it goes...where it goes...This is the DMV, where do you think it goes??
I go straight from work to pick Nastia up from school. We get up to Haverstraw about 2:45 or so. We stroll in and present our paper to the person who gives out numbers. He gives us a number that starts with G instead od one that starts with A and we are feeling the love and feeling real special. We sit down confidently sure in our knowledge and our paperwork that this is the day we will succeed. We will over come!!
Our wait is short and sweet. When we are called we are even sent to the same women as yesterday. We pleasantly say "Good Afternoon" and spill out our pile of perfect paperwork, sorted into two piles of useful and useless. Still carrying around that passport.
I sort through the paperwork and hand over all the proper identification papers. Then as if I am placing a cherry on top of a pile of whip cream I slide the eye test out. It's a beautiful thing. It sits there shining in its new inkiness. Our overworked attendant separates the papers to her liking, asks for my drivers license. She then stops, I think she is dazzled by the beauty of the eye test paper, filled out in its ORIGINAL perfectness. She then asks me why I signed it and not my daughter.
I grab my anger in my fists choking it's purple foulness and sticking it in my front pocket, the one that holds my car keys the ones I want to use to gouge out her eyes with. I think the only sign of my anger is my smile that has gone to a smirk. I answer her, "I signed it because my daughter is a minor and all contracts are unenforceable in a court of law." My anger in my pocket turns blood red and screams 'what the fuck do you care bitch!' I always like my temper, it cuts to the chase very quickly.
Our attendant reacts as if she has been slapped. "Really, I'm not trying to cause you trouble, but this form should of been signed by your daughter."
My Anger makes a run for it, gaining a foot hold on my mouth and my smirk turns down to a frown. My Anger in full control of my mouth shoots out towards my fists and in an all out bid for control starts its crawl up my cheeks towards my eyes. In a moment the lower lids set in a cold contemptuous glare. The eyes begin to narrow and my hands are curling into fists.
A moment before my anger has gained full control she say, "Let me get a supervisor." I know its a lost cause, just like yesterday, but I have a plan. The Supervisor explains there is no cutting breaks and the rules are the rules, are the rules, ARE THE RULES . Anger added the capitals, I didn't.
You say I have a plan, well yes I do. Early this morning I jack assed to Engelwood NJ to have someone forge Dr. Blumenthels name, so I decide to go have some lunch and fill out another eye test paper and sign Dr. Blumenthels name to it, brilliant wouldn't you say? Why didn't I do it this morning you ask? None of your business.
We go over to McDonalds about two minutes away. I figured if we had something to eat and filled out the form taking about half an hour no one would question that we went to get a new form.
We get some food and sit down. After a few quiet moments Nasta looks at me and asks, "Dad, what if you get caught doing this will you go to jail?"
I smile at the thought if everyone who did something like this went to jail and how naive my daughter at sixteen still is. I explain to her how the DMV is being unreasonable in not accepting the eye form and if I am caught they will just say the form is no good and needs to be done again.
Satisfied, We eat until the floor show begins. Neither of us know what started it, but a woman starts yelling about something. I continue eating, while Nastia cringes like she will need to duck under the table to avoid flying debris or even bullets. I know there is no way I'll get under that table before being riddled with several high velocity bullets. Of course the teacher in me can't pass over a teachable moment and I explain to her why and how to handle an irate customer.
The times has come, we go back to the DMV. There's electricity in the air, we are going to put one over on the man, the DMV for all their petty rules is goin to get fooled. We're gonna get them!! We park the car and stroll towards the doors. I laugh and tell Nastia, "It's a good thing we didn't wait too much longer, they close in fifteen minutes." We walk in like royalty, our fast pass guaranteed to get us fast service. We get pointed to the front counter, the Indian gentleman gives us a 'G' ticket, saying something about not understanding. I in all my confidence agree, "I don't understand either", Nastia quietly follows like the respectful peasant. We sit down and relax. Our new Indian friend comes up to Us and in one sentence shatters our master plan.
He says, "I am sorry sir, as it is too late in the day to take permit test, You have to come back on Monday."
Curses foiled again!! Nobody beats the DMV!!
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Well did she get the permit?
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