Family and Idiots, Part II

Part I is here.

I ran out of traffic court as quickly as possible and passive-aggressively got back at the snarky clerk by dumping out the Mountain Dew Baja Blast I'd gotten at Taco Bell in the court's parking lot. I know. It's liquid so who cares, and it was raining so who could tell I'd done it? Aside from the nausea-inducing color of the drink (an unholy blue-green) that probably burned a hole in the pavement, no one could tell, but it made me feel better. Saved me from imbibing any more of the barftastic taste.

After court, I went to pay my light bill. Forgot that the 26th was the last day I could pay my bill before my lights got shut off. Oops. Got to wait in another long line. Teh awesum, let me show you it.

On Tuesday, I took my precious paper from the court that declared I had ADMITTED my GUILT to my OFFENSE and went to River City's scariest BMV. (Yep, the same one where this happened.) The waiting room was packed. I was told to sign in. As I was picking up the pen to do so, I asked the clerk if I was just supposed to turn in my paper. I was told to SIGN IN and was given a number. And then I handed my paper to a clerk who was standing three feet away.

"Have a seat and listen for your name to be called," Clerk #2 said. The branch was helping (oh how loosely I use the term) customer #73. My number was #05. Grrrrrrrroan.

Luckily, I only had to sit there for about 10 minutes before -- get this -- the clerk called my name -- my full name -- and said it correctly -- and didn't offer any editorial comments -- and said I was "valid and free to leave."

Okay, two things.

A.) That phrase makes it sound like I was being released from prison. Again, s-p-e-e-d-i-n-g t-i-c-k-e-t.

B.) Was I driving with an invalid license?