(no subject)
Ok, Internet. You asked, and so you shall receive.
So, I'm normally waking up somewhere around noon or so, but for the driver's test I got up at 7:30, to be ready to leave somewhere around 8:30 for a 9:30 road test. (I'm in the video business-- early is on time, on time is late.) I haven't had breakfast because I'm just beside myself with anxiety. It's like going to the dentist's office-- it ought not to hurt, but a good portion of you knows better.
So Dad and I set off down Rt 128 at 8:15... and we arrive at the DMV at 8:45, well ahead of time. We both brought books, though, so we're in the car, sitting and reading. Well, I think he was reading, because I know I couldn't; the words just weren't getting through. I'd read the same paragraph over and over again, skim whole pages, and nothing sank in. (It wasn't even a terribly difficult book, it was only Tom Clancy.) So at about 9:10, we decide to pull around to the front and wait, because that's what they tell you to do, online. "Pull to the designated area, wait by your car, and your examiner will be with you." So we pull right up front, right into the tow-away no-parking zone, and wait politely, paperwork in hand.
Dad's getting pretty nervous at this point, just as nervous as I am. No one's come out to see us, nothing at all. So, at 20 past, he decides to pop his head into the building and ask, "wtf?" After a brief moment, he comes striding back out, walking double-time and informs me that the road test isn't held here, they told him, "it's in front of the Armory." The directions he received were, essentially, well you turn the corner and go that way.
So, we turned the corner, got on the main street that leads through Quincy Center and went right, as directed. It's now 9:25 and I'm gnawing myself in stress. If we don't make it in time, I swear, they'll just send me home and I'll have to pay the no-show fee, and it'll be like I failed the test and didn't even try and-- Dad keeps reminding me we've got time, we'll get there regardless... Finally, at 9:30, we pull over at a post office to ask for directions, completely bewildered.
Dad, with an edge of hysteria and frustration, comes back out a few minutes later and tells me, "Well, we're in Weymouth. The DMV clerk sent us in the wrong direction." I'm very quietly beside myself, seriously considering just chucking the fist full of paperwork over my shoulder and wailing and gnashing my teeth. Dad, still calmer than I am, is consoling me, telling me that we can at least show up, find out what the deal is, and if we have to make a new appointment, that'll be that. The money, which I was most concerned with, he let me know was not the issue.
Winding our way back into Quincy, dodging through Quincy Center (IT'S A TRAP. Seriously. Think the worst parts of Boston roadways, but not traveled often enough to be straightened out and paved over. Rotaries, one ways, forks into rotaries, narrow main streets, psychotic suicidal/apathetic pedestrians...), we finally make it to the other side of of the center which is... remarkably more serene. And as we appreciate the moment of clarity, we catch the first landmark we were told to look for, the old middle school. And not a block after is the Armory, with its designated Parking For Road Test Only white blocks, with another father/son pair and their Corsica. It's now 9:50. Instead of being 45 minutes early, we're 20 minutes late.
So, with all my papers in hand, including the car's registration and note of pending re-registration sticker, we wait as another, obviously student, car shows up. From the passenger side comes the trooper who's going to be quizzing one of us; he's gorram 6 feet tall, all legs. And I'm thinking to myself, if he chews me out for being late... I really don't know what I'm going to do. I'm so overstressed, depressed, hungry and anxious at this point, I'm pretty numb. So he strides over, looks down at me and says, "All your paperwork in order?"
I stammer a yessir and he nods and, looking over me at the traffic, says, "Very good. Go ahead and hop in, adjust your seat and mirrors, and we'll do your signals and brake light before I get in." I nod again and settle myself in, still a little in shock that this is actually working. I feel like I'm cheating somehow.
He directs me on my blinker (which, even now, I don't know if I did them on the right sides as he pointed because I was just so distracted that this was working! I might be actually doing my test! So I pass that and he climbs in. He sits in the passenger side seat and finds his knees at the dashboard. Calmly and nonchalantly, he finds the seat slider and swings the seat in the furthest position, stretching and getting himself comfortable. If I hadn't been so hollow, I'd've laughed. He asks to see my papers and I hand them to him, and he's nodding and humming... He looks at me straight for a moment, and my heard stops as he asks, "So, what's your name?"
"Matt Crowley, sir." He nods affirmatively, and looks through his scheduler paperwork.
"What time were you scheduled for?"
My heart is in my throat. "9:30, sir." I start trying to excuse myself, saying, "I'm sorry we weren't here, we got to the DMV, and they told us it was at the Armory, and they pointed us the wrong way-"
"Crowley, here you are. Oh, that's ok," he says, checking me off his list as 'arrived'. "Yeah, usually the road test sets up right in front of the DMV. Sorry about that."
I'm beside myself. Not only is it ok, he doesn't care! It takes me a moment to realize he's giving me instructions. "...traffic is merging, pull up to the light and take a right and we'll begin." And I'm doing it. The test is... well, honestly, it was a joke, for what I prepared for. I was up last night trying to do parallel parking to the best of my ability, getting good but not feeling as though I had a good grip on it... turns out my "parallel parking" was "get next to the curb with no other cars around". My three-point-turn was very good for such a narrow street, my backing up was fine, I took corners fine (except for the first, which kinda spooked the trooper as he went, "Whoa. Whoa, whoa, WHOA chief!" Oops. Nerves.) and he generally waived the rest of the test when he saw I was as composed and confident as I was behind the wheel (his words, verbatim). We got to the last corner, he told me to take the right and park in the designated parking spots, and we'd be done with the test.
That was it. I'd passed my test in under 8 minutes, and for all that had gone on with the rest of the morning, the trooper couldn't care less. Absolutely remarkable. He finished up the paperwork and told me, "You're all set, just head to the DMV and they'll process the paperwork to get you your license issued. Do you know where the DMV is?" and Dad and I both laughed.
That's the story, pretty much. After that we waited 2 hours in the DMV to get my temporary issued, headed home through Furnacebrook Parkway, then stopped at Dunkin' Donuts for breakfast/lunch. As we were coming back out of Dunkies, Dad puts the keys in my hand. As we both settle in, he commands, "Home, Jeeves." It was both hilarious and honoring.
I dropped Dad off at home as it started raining, and went to deliver the van back to Lauren (because I'd used hers, as it was the most familiar to me and she wasn't going to let me use the Passat) and as I got in, it was decided that I would probably be the faster driver to get to hockey practice and Matt could you get Kev to the Iorio Rink? Pretty funny, if you ask me.
So, that's two days of great luck in a row. And you know what happens this morning? Axon Communications, one of the companies that took great interest in me during the portfolio show, calls me up and asks me if I wanted an editing job with them for the next three months. Holy crap. I had to honestly very regretfully turn them down for the opportunity, but I asked if they could keep me on file with them, and they were more than willing to do so. Seriously, I just need to go to that car auction ASAP, before this good luck streak dies out...
-Pendragon
So, I'm normally waking up somewhere around noon or so, but for the driver's test I got up at 7:30, to be ready to leave somewhere around 8:30 for a 9:30 road test. (I'm in the video business-- early is on time, on time is late.) I haven't had breakfast because I'm just beside myself with anxiety. It's like going to the dentist's office-- it ought not to hurt, but a good portion of you knows better.
So Dad and I set off down Rt 128 at 8:15... and we arrive at the DMV at 8:45, well ahead of time. We both brought books, though, so we're in the car, sitting and reading. Well, I think he was reading, because I know I couldn't; the words just weren't getting through. I'd read the same paragraph over and over again, skim whole pages, and nothing sank in. (It wasn't even a terribly difficult book, it was only Tom Clancy.) So at about 9:10, we decide to pull around to the front and wait, because that's what they tell you to do, online. "Pull to the designated area, wait by your car, and your examiner will be with you." So we pull right up front, right into the tow-away no-parking zone, and wait politely, paperwork in hand.
Dad's getting pretty nervous at this point, just as nervous as I am. No one's come out to see us, nothing at all. So, at 20 past, he decides to pop his head into the building and ask, "wtf?" After a brief moment, he comes striding back out, walking double-time and informs me that the road test isn't held here, they told him, "it's in front of the Armory." The directions he received were, essentially, well you turn the corner and go that way.
So, we turned the corner, got on the main street that leads through Quincy Center and went right, as directed. It's now 9:25 and I'm gnawing myself in stress. If we don't make it in time, I swear, they'll just send me home and I'll have to pay the no-show fee, and it'll be like I failed the test and didn't even try and-- Dad keeps reminding me we've got time, we'll get there regardless... Finally, at 9:30, we pull over at a post office to ask for directions, completely bewildered.
Dad, with an edge of hysteria and frustration, comes back out a few minutes later and tells me, "Well, we're in Weymouth. The DMV clerk sent us in the wrong direction." I'm very quietly beside myself, seriously considering just chucking the fist full of paperwork over my shoulder and wailing and gnashing my teeth. Dad, still calmer than I am, is consoling me, telling me that we can at least show up, find out what the deal is, and if we have to make a new appointment, that'll be that. The money, which I was most concerned with, he let me know was not the issue.
Winding our way back into Quincy, dodging through Quincy Center (IT'S A TRAP. Seriously. Think the worst parts of Boston roadways, but not traveled often enough to be straightened out and paved over. Rotaries, one ways, forks into rotaries, narrow main streets, psychotic suicidal/apathetic pedestrians...), we finally make it to the other side of of the center which is... remarkably more serene. And as we appreciate the moment of clarity, we catch the first landmark we were told to look for, the old middle school. And not a block after is the Armory, with its designated Parking For Road Test Only white blocks, with another father/son pair and their Corsica. It's now 9:50. Instead of being 45 minutes early, we're 20 minutes late.
So, with all my papers in hand, including the car's registration and note of pending re-registration sticker, we wait as another, obviously student, car shows up. From the passenger side comes the trooper who's going to be quizzing one of us; he's gorram 6 feet tall, all legs. And I'm thinking to myself, if he chews me out for being late... I really don't know what I'm going to do. I'm so overstressed, depressed, hungry and anxious at this point, I'm pretty numb. So he strides over, looks down at me and says, "All your paperwork in order?"
I stammer a yessir and he nods and, looking over me at the traffic, says, "Very good. Go ahead and hop in, adjust your seat and mirrors, and we'll do your signals and brake light before I get in." I nod again and settle myself in, still a little in shock that this is actually working. I feel like I'm cheating somehow.
He directs me on my blinker (which, even now, I don't know if I did them on the right sides as he pointed because I was just so distracted that this was working! I might be actually doing my test! So I pass that and he climbs in. He sits in the passenger side seat and finds his knees at the dashboard. Calmly and nonchalantly, he finds the seat slider and swings the seat in the furthest position, stretching and getting himself comfortable. If I hadn't been so hollow, I'd've laughed. He asks to see my papers and I hand them to him, and he's nodding and humming... He looks at me straight for a moment, and my heard stops as he asks, "So, what's your name?"
"Matt Crowley, sir." He nods affirmatively, and looks through his scheduler paperwork.
"What time were you scheduled for?"
My heart is in my throat. "9:30, sir." I start trying to excuse myself, saying, "I'm sorry we weren't here, we got to the DMV, and they told us it was at the Armory, and they pointed us the wrong way-"
"Crowley, here you are. Oh, that's ok," he says, checking me off his list as 'arrived'. "Yeah, usually the road test sets up right in front of the DMV. Sorry about that."
I'm beside myself. Not only is it ok, he doesn't care! It takes me a moment to realize he's giving me instructions. "...traffic is merging, pull up to the light and take a right and we'll begin." And I'm doing it. The test is... well, honestly, it was a joke, for what I prepared for. I was up last night trying to do parallel parking to the best of my ability, getting good but not feeling as though I had a good grip on it... turns out my "parallel parking" was "get next to the curb with no other cars around". My three-point-turn was very good for such a narrow street, my backing up was fine, I took corners fine (except for the first, which kinda spooked the trooper as he went, "Whoa. Whoa, whoa, WHOA chief!" Oops. Nerves.) and he generally waived the rest of the test when he saw I was as composed and confident as I was behind the wheel (his words, verbatim). We got to the last corner, he told me to take the right and park in the designated parking spots, and we'd be done with the test.
That was it. I'd passed my test in under 8 minutes, and for all that had gone on with the rest of the morning, the trooper couldn't care less. Absolutely remarkable. He finished up the paperwork and told me, "You're all set, just head to the DMV and they'll process the paperwork to get you your license issued. Do you know where the DMV is?" and Dad and I both laughed.
That's the story, pretty much. After that we waited 2 hours in the DMV to get my temporary issued, headed home through Furnacebrook Parkway, then stopped at Dunkin' Donuts for breakfast/lunch. As we were coming back out of Dunkies, Dad puts the keys in my hand. As we both settle in, he commands, "Home, Jeeves." It was both hilarious and honoring.
I dropped Dad off at home as it started raining, and went to deliver the van back to Lauren (because I'd used hers, as it was the most familiar to me and she wasn't going to let me use the Passat) and as I got in, it was decided that I would probably be the faster driver to get to hockey practice and Matt could you get Kev to the Iorio Rink? Pretty funny, if you ask me.
So, that's two days of great luck in a row. And you know what happens this morning? Axon Communications, one of the companies that took great interest in me during the portfolio show, calls me up and asks me if I wanted an editing job with them for the next three months. Holy crap. I had to honestly very regretfully turn them down for the opportunity, but I asked if they could keep me on file with them, and they were more than willing to do so. Seriously, I just need to go to that car auction ASAP, before this good luck streak dies out...
-Pendragon