The guy at the checkout stand glanced at my driver’s license.
“Oh, wow,” he said. “You have a birthday tomorrow.”
“No, that was a few weeks ago.”
It was then that I noticed he was looking at the expiration date.
Dern it. It was Monday night and my license was expiring on Tuesday.
I wish I had noticed that earlier. Much earlier, in fact.
I have had bad experiences with my driver’s license and figured this was going to be another.
About 20 years ago, I had to make a copy of my driver’s license as proof of residency.
I did that and headed out for Edmond later in the day for an errand.
A cop put the light on me for a minor traffic violation and asked for my license. Which I couldn’t find. Where had I put it after I made my copy? No one knew, especially me.
So, I left the traffic stop and went to get a new license, which was a several-hour enterprise due to a long line.
Finally, I was finished and got home. I decided I would make a copy of all the documents to keep as file copies. I opened the lid to my copier - and there was my old driver’s license, exactly where I had left it after I’d made my copy earlier that day.
About three years later, I had to fly to New Orleans for a business meeting and had to show my driver’s license as proof of ID to get on the plane.
This was not long after the Sep. 11 attacks and there was a good deal of airport security.
I flashed the boarding agent my license, and he said: “Did you know it expires in two days?”
No, I didn’t. And then I realized that I would be coming back from New Orleans in three days.
Would they let me board the bird back home with an expired license?
“I guess you’ll find out,” the boarding agent said.
Turns out, they did, but I had to convince the folks in New Orleans that I was not a terrorist.
All those visions flashed before my eyes on Monday night when I realized I was almost expired again.
So Tuesday morning, I called the folks at the Meeker tag agency to see what I would need to do get it renewed. Would my old license be enough?
“If you’re doing Real ID, you’ll need your passport and some mail with your name and address on the label,” she said.
Easy enough. I was there Tuesday morning, documents in hand. Tracy took my picture, got my fingerprints, had me sign my name.
Within minutes, I was done. I had a temporary paper license and my new, license would be coming in the mail in a couple of weeks.
And, best of all: “It’s free,” she said. Hah! Free - a benefit of being in an elevated demographic.
And a happy ending.