I had to get a new driver's license today. My old Kansan one was going to expire on my birthday so I decided it was time to part ways with it. I didn't think it was a big deal, just an extra $45 and a draining trip to the DMV. But, I had my book, and it meant I got to go to work late, so I was ok making the trek.
The man who helped me was was middle aged and sort of brusque, probably from years of dealing with annoying people. He sat on a stool and his finger nails were jagged and he was using an ink pen that I desperately wanted to steal. (There's nothing I love more than a good ink pen). I was already nervous because I'm always nervous when I have to do things I'm not used to doing. Like when I have to stand up on the city bus. I always feel like I'm standing weird or holding the rail in a strange way. I get sweaty and wonder if I look like an idiot. I have learned that this fear is irrational, but one I will experience my entire life. Because of my tense disposition in new situations, I probably wasn't as pleasant as I could have been with the man, so in turn he wasn't as pleasant as he could have been with me. He was irritated with me because I had failed to bring my birth certificate and I was irritated because of the horrible fluorescent lighting. I was also nervous about the possibility of an eye exam. Nervous for a couple reasons: A) I've needed to have my eyes checked for about a year and still haven't done it. B) The eye exam machine was gross. The pad that you're supposed to rest your forehead on was sort of brownish and greasy looking from too much lady make up and oily faces. Luckily, he didn't make me take the test, so I breathed a sigh of relief and watched people have their pictures taken while the man filled out my paperwork.
Once he was done entering my information in the computer he told me that I must "surrender my old license." He said it just like that. Like he wanted to take over my pirate ship or something. His face dared me to say no. Like he had been told no before. He had his arms folded across his chest and he was sort of frowning at me and I thought it might be funny to tell him no. But alas, I lamely took out my old ID and slid it across the counter to him.
My old license was really old and battered. I once fell asleep with it in my pocket and it bent in three places. My picture was taken early on a Wednesday morning when I was in college so I look tired and squinty. I mean, it was time to let it go. But when he said, "surrender your license," I got a little agitated. I had clung to my Kansan license because it was the last piece of physical evidence that I was still from there. I liked showing my ID to bartenders because it was always a conversation piece. "You're from Kansas? What are you doing out here?" And we would chat and exchange pleasantries and I liked it. Today when I handed the DMV man my license, he promptly dropped it in the shredder, right in front my eyes and acted like it was the most normal thing in the world. It looked like he may have even smirked a little. Like shredding people's identities was the most enjoyable part of his job. Unexpectedly, it broke my heart a little bit. It was so final, so severe. Like a guillotine. The DMV man had guillotined my identity. Downtrodden, I shuffled away from him to have my new picture taken.
I left the DMV, with my shiny new card that looked so terribly generic. I left thinking about the soft blue color of my old license and the way it had wheat on it and the way one of the creases went right over my forehead and made me look a little angry but in a funny kind of way. My new license is wretched. The blue is too bright and the picture is too big and my face looks greasy in it (maybe everyone's face is greasy when they go to the DMV...hence the greasy eye test machine) and it just looks generally unpleasant to me.
And so my Kansan identity is gone for good. I feel a little lost.
