I am Woman Hear me Bore

Have I already talked about my first Texas driver's license? I recollect mentioning it to Gar the Texan in reference to something I also don't remember.

Rather than blog about my driver's license I'd prefer to blog about a new goofy Star-Telegram, Fort Worth thing. But I've been banned for a week from boring people with my pathetic making fun of Fort Worth and its sad excuse for a newspaper.

So, back to my first Texas driver's license. It arrived the day before I was set to drive up to Washington for Christmas. I didn't notice anything wrong with it til I looked at it more closely the next day. Texas had turned me into a woman. I didn't mind too much.

I made it out of Texas and all the way to Washington without having to show my license to anyone. Not til I was at my sister's house in the Seattle suburb of Kent did I have to show my license. She was having an all-girl Christmas party and I was allowed to stay if I acted as the greeter and if I showed my license to all the incoming girls to prove my bonafides as one of them. It really wasn't all that hard to be a good girl. I was actually one of the better looking girls at the party, if I do say so myself.

I made it all the way back to Texas without having to show my license to anyone with a badge. When I got back here I went to the Department of Motor Vehicles, that's not what they call it here, that's the Washington name, I never can remember the Texas name for the place you get a driver's license. The DMV, or whatever it's called here, is a total zoo. Long lines, antique computers, noisy. But the help is nice.

When my turn finally came I showed the nice lady my license and asked if she can spot an error. She saw it and said "I assume you are not female."

"I'm fairly certain I'm not," said I.

She then entered something into her computer to get my records from Austin. When she had that info she looked surprised and had me lean in close because she had a delicate question to ask me.

She whispered, "It says you're African-American. You aren't are you?"

"I'm fairly certain I'm not," said I.

She snipped the corner off my license so I could keep it as a souvenir of my day's as a female. I wonder what would have happened to me if I'd been stopped for speeding and the cop looked up my record to learn I was African-American in addition to being a woman? I suspect if this had happened in Texas this would not have gone well for me.