Flashback

I went to the DMV on Friday to take the written portion of the motorcycle license test. Since I had made an appointment online, I wasn't too worried about the amount of time I was going to spend with 528 grumpy people on the only Friday of the month that the DMV was open. I was there for about an hour and a half, but trust me, that was nothing. I heard all about one poor woman's misadventures at the DMV that had tied her up for five hours. That is, I heard all about it, along with everyone else within a 20 foot radius of her service window. But, all in all, I felt fairly prepared for this disgruntled experience.

What I wasn't prepared for was the time warp I experienced during my trip. After waiting for my number to be called and paying the licensing fee, I was directed to photo line #2. I looked around for a mirror but found none, so did my best to smooth my wind-blown, tangled in sunglasses hair and tried to convince myself I was confident enough to not care about this silly picture. My worth is not in my appearance. Or, at least, that's what I was telling myself until I actually saw the picture. I thought I was giving the camera man a neutral look. But apparently, my neutral expression is a pissed-off expression. Which, coupled with my disheveled hair, resulted in my new license looking like a mug shot. The kind of mug shot that, if I were famous, TMZ would love to get its hands on.

As I stood in another line to take the test, I had nothing to do but get angry about my angry expression. And then I remembered a moment back in 4th grade, when I was at cheer leading practice with about 55 other girls (I think there were more cheer leaders on the sidelines than football players on the field). The two coaches called a handful of us out of the cheer line and gathered us into a huddle. "Girls," one of the ladies instructed, "you're cheer leaders! Cheer leaders SMILE!! Don't forget to smile at the crowd!!!" In actuality, I'm sure there were many more exclamation points in the pep talk than that. After all, they were cheer leading coaches and cheer leading coaches PEP! But rather than feeling inspired, I walked back to my spot thinking, "Cheer leading is stupid." And that was the end of my cheer career.

Shocking, isn't it?

Nevertheless, now I'm wondering, "Do I have a mean face?"

Time warp #2 came while waiting for the decidedly-not-a-cheer-leading-coach DMV worker to grade my written test. In a flash I was in 6th grade, standing next to Mr. Hall while he graded my vocab quiz. Watching him mark through one of my answers with his red pen was cruel and unusual punishment. I'm not kidding. I experienced it as torture. So, I took to squeezing my eyes shut and plugging my ears (because, duh, you can HEAR the pen on the page) until he was finished. (I still utilize this technique when watching any remotely scary movie. Like Twilight.) Mr. Hall noticed this odd behavior and decided to toy with me by pretending to mark on my page, just to see what would happen. Can you believe they would let such a clearly demented man teach children? Why he remains one of my favorite teachers of all time, I do not know.

When I was recounting this story to Ben, he asked if I ever did this to my students. I quickly exclaimed, "Of course not! But if I did...and if they responded the way 11-year-old Robin did, I would promptly refer them to the college counseling center so they could address their perfectionism."

The good news is that I passed (barely) and I got to re-do my picture. When I gave into my vanity and requested another shot, the window clerk said, "Well, we don't normally do that kind of thing."

And then he looked at my picture.