This Saturday, I got up early to take a little trip. Unfortunately, it wasn't to anywhere exciting, but to the MVA, otherwise known as the DMV. Apparently Maryland is a special place and feels that they need to change the name of their DMV to reflect that. But in reality, the MVA was no different than the DMV. Tons of people sat in molded plastic chairs waiting for their number to flash on the screen overhead so that they could go talk to someone who was either grumpy, inarticulate, or unfamiliar with the English language. My number was 82. I think they were in the 60s when I got there. I didn't think it would take all that long since there were about 15 open stations, but of course, it still took an hour. And then when I finally got up there and was one step from being finished with the whole tedious process, the computers froze. Just my luck. So I got to sit there and sit there and sit there until they came back on. Fortunately, they did come back on and I was able to walk out of the MVA $46 poorer, but with a new driver's license. That's right...$46. It's a freaking piece of plastic folks. That's more than a parking violation costs. That's absurd. And not only is it just a piece of plastic, it's about the ugliest piece of plastic I've ever seen. Not only is there one big horrible picture of me on it, but a little fuzzy copy of this same horrible picture in the corner. And my scribbly signature (who ever thought signing on a screen was a good idea?) is also on there twice, along with my birthdate. Apparently people in Maryland are retarded and need to see everything twice before it makes sense to them. Actually, the stupid factor is confirmed by the picture chosen for the license. It's a crab. A creepy, crawly crab smack in the top right corner of my license. Come on, people. A crab. That's a good one. I mean, I used to think the Kentucky license was ugly, but at least it was interesting. This one is just flat out ugly. No redeeming qualities at all.
So yes, I came home from the MVA a little bit grumpy. I'd had to get up early on a Saturday just to wait around forever before forking over $46 (Mind you, $46 is a significant chunk of my monthly income) for an ugly piece of plastic. Buty it just wasn't all those little inconveniences that made me grumpy, but the fact that I had to turn over my Kentucky license for a Maryland one. It was as if the MVA man threw a little part of me away when he shoved my Kentucky license through the tiny slot of the locked drawer through which nothing can ever be recovered. Sure, I do live in Maryland now and will probably for a few more years, but I don't feel any connection with this place. The only parts of the state I've ever been to are Baltimore and the DC metropolitan area. I have no idea who the governor is. I don't know the state motto or song, and I can't figure out why their state flag looks like it should be waved at a Nascar race. I have no connection to this place, and I don't really have a desire to establish one. I don't feel like anything that happens here actually affects me. Maybe that will change with time. I don't know. But for now, all I know is that there's an imposter in my wallet. It's an ugly little piece of plastic (with a crab on it!) that says I'm from Maryland when I know darn well that I am and always will be from Kentucky.
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