Son of Lincoln

It's official. I am an Illinois resident.

The Friday before The Flood, I had taken the day off for my Second City conservatory audition (did I mention I got in? :). Since I have been scootering around illegally (read: on an expired Missouri permit), I had set aside the morning to brave the Chicago DMV to get my Illinois Class L license (motorbikes under 150cc).

I was nervous. Like most sane people I hate the DMV, and I'd only been to those in the suburbs.

I'm out of energy for eloquence tonight, so I'll be precise:

1) The DMV was A) Massive, B) Clean, C) Very Well Organized, and D) Staffed By Genuinely Helpful People.

2) I was forced to surrender my Missouri license, take the Illinois driver's exam on the fly without any advanced study, and get my Illinois license before they would agree to scooter me.

When the nice lady at Station 17 told me the above, I told her I was concerned that I might fail the test. She said to me, "Honey, the only people that fail it are those that don't speak English." Which was kind of cool, because I think all women who work at the DMV should start every sentence with "Honey...", but was kind of sucky because it set a standard of which I was terrified of falling short. And also a little bit xenophobic. But just a little. And, after all, everyone's a rittle bit lacist.

So, I passed, and got my license and my scooter permit. I would post a picture, but the Man Mane was not having a good day. I look a little like Lorenzo Lamas.

The other good that came out of this was that I am now registered to vote up here. I'm glad I got that taken care of prior to the flood, because I can see that as being one of those things that I let fall by the wayside while I'm doing other life-y stuff.