Driving Theories

Before I do anything else, I must alert you to the absolute brainiac inspiration I had last night about Anna Nicole Smith. Like most of you, I usually could not care less about her, but this thought was so inspired I had to share, and get it on the record as soon as possible, so that fame and fortune will be mine when it proves to be true.

However, my wild-ass speculation is so controversial that I couldn't put it on the home page here. Instead, I have my totally salacious (and soon to be proved true) theory about the Life and Death of Anna Nicole Smith over on Soap Box. Simply a Must Read.



The readers came through on the library thing, and I am happy to report that I now have a library card, which hopefully will bring more stability to posting. (Of course, I still have to figure out the gas to get over there, but hey: one step at a time.)

Now, another opportunity has come up, and once again I appeal to you: the Readers.

Before I get to that, you may wonder why I keep begging for money. The simple answer is: I deserve your money. I've been knocking it out of the park lately (and under some pretty tough conditions), and last I checked, you haven't contributed a dime to the cause. You know, these kick ass stories, thoughts, observations: they don't grow on trees! Anyway, pony up some dough and be a part of the Hyperion Institute Fabulous Financial Investment Equity Studs, or HIFFIES. C'mon, who doesn't want to be a Hiffy?

This week's opportunity comes from Koz, who called me the other day to report that up in Atlanta a theatre is showing all five Best Picture nominees back to back to back to back to back the day before the Oscars.

Now, as most of you know, I usually put on the Ritz for the Oscars, watching each and every movie nominated, and reporting back to you best I can. This year I was quite saddened by my situation in so far as it meant not much Oscar coverage. But this trip could be a gold mine!

What you'll get:

Not only will I write excellent reviews on the Best Picture Nominees I haven't seen, but I will write a sure to be hilarious column detailing the entire day and what transpired.

And if that isn't enough, though I'm sure I will be beyond exhausted (and probably not able to walk), the next night I will keep a running diary of my thoughts about the Oscars.

I'm trying to come up with enough for the ticket, a few jerky and Skittle related snacks, dinner up there with Koz, and of course gas. If everyone reading donates just $100, I can make the trip on February 24 and in July enter the World Series of Poker.

Well, maybe just one step at a time. Whaddya got to lose?


Main Event

It feels surreal to even say this, but as of yesterday morning, at least in Georgia, and at least under my current name, I am no longer a scofflaw.

That's right, friends: for the first time in forever Hyperion has a Driver's License.

"The kid's legal now."

[What movie's that from? Ten points for whomever's first]

Being a legal driver is sort of a surreal experience. My entire time in Canada I was sort of "extra-legal," a gray area that no one was entirely sure of. I had a Georgia Driver's License, though, and when it expired at the end of December, 2005, it sort of put me in limbo. Because of my legal status I could not get a Canadian license, so for the most part my driving had to pretty much cease.

Then came the big cross-country trip, and Hyperion HAD to drive. I did so without much anxiety, but with full knowledge that if I got pulled over I'd be screwed.

(Actually, my parents never found out, but I was pulled over up in Canada right toward the end. I talked my way out of it, though, because I'm smooth. What happened was that I had changed pants (because of the snow), and my wallet was in the other pants. So when I was pulled over (for going over the line at an intersection, even though the snow had obliterated the line), I didn't panic. I simply told the officer the truth: how after getting in from the snow earlier in the evening I had taken off my jeans and switched to track pants, and forgotten to switch the wallet. I offered to have him follow us back to the camp and check, which he declined to do. What I DIDN'T mention was that if he had come with me he'd have found a driver's license one year expired. Yeah: I'm smooth.)

Getting the license down here had been frustrating too, for reasons ranging from conflicting advice on what requirements I'd need to prove I live here now, and then my three and a half weeks without walking.

When we finally did go it was my dad who was told he couldn't transfer his Canadian license until he took the written and driving tests. This is a man who lived in Georgia for several years in the '90s, and who has been driving since he was 8. (He lived on a farm.) Furthermore, dad can't prove he lives here either, but the DMV lady told him that "your grandson can vouch for you."

Any of you who have ever met my father can imagine how he took that news. Not only does the man who's been driving illegally for over a year have to vouch that he lives with me, but he's my grandfather.

(And beause I'm such a great son/grandson, I had to bust his balls all the way home. I pointed out what traffic lights meant "Yellow means slow down..." as well as signs, lanes; whatever I could think of.)

As for actually getting my license, it was both hard and ridiculously easy. The hard part stemmed from the fact that Columbus (city of 250,000) has one DMV the size of a house trailer. The first time we went there was a line halfway down the road, and we're already talking a building 10 miles out of town. (Which is stupid if you think about it: if you don't have a license, how are you going to legally get out into the country?)

We finally went an hour early yesterday, only to still find a line. This brought the second big hurdle: I had to stand for over an hour. It was absolutely brutal, and I only made it by a sense of will equal that to Roman 13th Legion back in the Day. I'll probably pay for that forever, but hey: I did it.

Actually getting the license was a joke. They took my word for where I lived: leading me to believe I could have made up any address in the universe. You can see how fraud would be quite easy, were one so inclined.

The only other awkward moment came when the guy asked if I wanted to change any of my personal information. This is how he did it:

"Has any of your personal details changed...height, eye color, glasses...(big pause)...weight?"


There are two other details I simply must share, things that simply could not be made up. One was that while I was standing there waiting to "have my picture made" (as they say it down here), a man walks in a side door with a white jumpsuit on. He walked in like he owned the place, and no one gave him a second glance. The man walked into the back room and did something, and then walked back out with a pack of cigarettes, stopping for a moment to chat with one of the clerks. It was only as he was leaving that that I noticed his jumpsuit said "STATE PRISONER."

Clearly the guy was comfortable and accepted here, which can only lead me to believe that this was a regular gig for him. I guess that's the DMV for you: a state prisoner, no problem, but an honest citizen who happend to live in Canada for awhile: No License for you!

As I was getting ready to leave a woman about 5 foot nothing walked in, so short they couldn't really see her over the counter. She was 75 if she was a day, and she started bellowing about getting her license changed.

The clerks politely tried to calm the woman down, asking about her "ticket," which you only get after you make it through the outer and inner lines to the inner inner line. The woman didn't have a ticket.

When the clerk told the woman she had to stand in line to get a ticket, the woman puffed up like a bantam rooster and yelled, "I'd have to be crazy to stand in a line that long. I just got divorced and I ain't spending one more goddam minute with that man's name on my license. I want my maiden name back so I can get out there and see what's available!"

They put her at the front of the line.

Writing this all up reminds me of the last time I lost my license and drove for over a year without one. I got two great columns out of it, columns you should read now. (I said now!)

Check out #55 Driving Myself Crazy Part 1


#56 Driving Myself Crazy Part 2

And I'll see you Monday!


tiff said...

Hooray for being legal! I'm going to drop a little something in the paypal account for you. We need Hype's reviews to know for SURE which movies we just HAVE to see.

tiff said...

Oops! Paypal doesn't seem to have the right info!

Check's inna mail.

Sea Hag said...

change your paypal to take US dollars dude.

Biff Spiffy said...

Damn it feels good to be a gangsta.

Okay, that's not exactly related to anything you said, but when you said you're legal it popped into my head, and far be it from me to not say something I think.

Glad you're plugged back in.

rennratt said...

Glad to see that you are finally able to get up and around...

...and that you are finally legal.