I officially hate Connecticut. For my new job I have to get a van license because I will be a debate coach and I have to drive my lovelies to competitions. Well this DAMN van license has been the most painful experience of my life (not that I love hyperbole or anything…). When I first went to the CT DMV to get the license, I went grossly unprepared. So the next day I went armed with my MA license, my birth certificate, my baptismal certificate (it was in the same plastic holder as the birth certificate — I guess they happened pretty close together), a bill with my new address, my checkbook, The Secret Life of Bees by Sue Monk Kidd to read in the long waiting intervals, and my passport. Before I could go to the DMV for a second time, I first had to go get insurance from this agent who is a volunteer fireman in Simsbury. he was a very nice Connecticutian — not a local mind you — but a chatty Connecticutian and I just wanted to get it done with! After a long time at the DMV, I then had to go get a physical. And like a good girl, I showered, groomed and went potty BEFORE leaving the house. Alas, when i got there, they told me I had to pee in a cup. I really wished they’d have told me before I got there. The assistant insisted there was no drug test, but I think otherwise. He brought me six glasses of water to encourage me, but I just have a really hard time peeing on command. I hate invasive tests, and examining my bodily waste counts as invasive to me.

After that I had to go to the West Hartford PD to get fingerprinted. I had never seen the inside of a real police station before! I didn’t know if I’d witness gun fights, bad guys, police brutality… Who knows in West hartford. When the small, unintimidating young police woman buzzed me in, she pointed me in the direction of the receptionist, I guess. The hallways were stark and barren, some institutional blue-gray. Geneve tells me it was formerly an elementary school. Those poor kids.

When I got to the window, the office people were huddled and abuzz. I thought something exciting MUST be going on. As it turns pout, I think someone was showing pictures of their grandchildren or something. The receptionist had me pay $10 and the take the elevator to the third floor, turn left, and go to where it said “Finger Printing”. I didn’t dare take the stairs.

On the third floor I passed what I thought must be an interrogation room (”Did you or did you not park in that no parking zone?”). I didn’t look all the way in for fear of being arrested. Then I got to the finger printing sign. It said to ring the bell, sit down and someone will be with you shortly. I rang the bell, but I didn’t sit down. The detective opened the door and showed me in. I’ told him I’d never been inside a real police station. He asked if I was impressed.

That’s when I noticed the ladder. About 6-8 feet away from me was a slide ladder that went straight up through the ceiling. Really it was the weirdest thing. The squared cut-out into the ceiling looked “finished”. I oohed and ahhed and asked what was up there, thinking they had some maintenance issue. He said he didn’t know, he’d never been up there, but the ladder had been there as long as he could remember. I asked if that’s where they put the bad guys. He told me no, that’s where they did the finger printing.

He said, “Sometimes I come in and some of the custodial staff are up there — some all the way up there, some on the ladder, and they yell back and forth to each other.” We bantered some, I vowed to do something bad so that i could come back and explore where the ladder went, and to my finger prints and was one my way.

That was it. That’s all I had to do for this van license. It said on the direction form (which had clearly once been typed out on the most ancient of typewriters) that if you are from out of state you need a criminal history check done and a driving record check done. I asked when I was last at the DMV if THEY do that or if I do that. The nice DMV officer said they they take care of that. This makes sense, seeing how I could easily enough doctor my own CORI. They didn’t trust me enough to tell me to pee in advance, but they trust me with my criminal history… okay.

So off I went to New Britain (pronounce NEW Bri-TAIN — long A sound) back to the DMV with all of my necessary van license paperwork. So I get there, and the DMV officer first of all gives me a hard time with my medical history, telling me that because I take a medication, I must check a yes to one of the serious illnesses. I’m not sure how challenging that CT civil service exam is, but I think someone needs to see if GW Bush can pass it. If so, they need to make it a lot more challenging. The he tells me I have to go back to Massachusetts (all 50 miles or so) and get my driving record and CORI. First he tells me I can get it online. Actually, that is not an option. The he tells me if that doesn’t work, i have to go to the DMV and the Northampton Police Station.

To say the least I am not pleased. I have mounds of boxes in my house, and now I have to spend MORE time on the dumbest bureaucracy. Now I’ve had many a CORI done before. I have no problem with people making sure I am not an offender if I’m dealing with children, but the rest of this crap. Come on! And it’s not even logical. No school would EVER accept a CORI I would bring to them. Someone, please tell me that the DMV takes care of this. If not, why don’t they just have me sign off on it and approve it? UGH! Connecticut!