License to KILL! Did I say kill? I meant drive. In Florida. AND NOTHING ELSE!

After a year of living in Florida, I finally took the necessary steps to becoming a Florida resident. Not because of the sentimental reason that this is the first place Patrick and I have lived together. Not to get a job, not to be a registered voter and not even to avoid a hefty fine if I got pulled over. No, the reason was so that I could get a library card. What’s that? Are you calling me a nerd? How ’bout a little less making fun and a little more high fiving my dedication to literacy in America.

I was quite pleased with the general look and feel of my license. It wasn’t dull and boring like the licenses of the last three states in which I’ve lived. This license is covered in fun, with all of the following things proudly displayed across the front: an ocean scene, a jungle, some endangered rain forest monkeys, several coconut-bearing palm trees, the entire cast of Gilligan’s Island and even a smiling cartoon sun wearing a top hat and singing a show tune.

Looking closely at the fine print, notice that I’m listed as a SAFE DRIVER. (Yes, Ashley, I’m talking mostly to you.) While I wasn’t surprised, I’m quite glad I don’t fall into a category of people who have to tote around a license that says COMPLETE MORON or STEER CLEAR IF YOU VALUE YOUR LIFE. I have a few college friends who would be a little upset at their blunt license rankings, which would sound something like VEHICULAR MANSLAUGHTER IN PROGRESS. I wonder whether bouncers look at these when they’re checking IDs. Or you buy a glass of wine on a date, the waiter checks your ID and your balls leap back up into your abdomen as you’re left without even a shred of dignity.

I listed my height as 5’6″ – how optimistic of me. I figured it was more realistic to only lie a little, whereas 5’10” and 105 lbs would have been more than a bit of a stretch. Ah well.

One more thing about the license … It’s amazing how closely it resembles this bad boy:

---