THE COLLINS CHRONICLES e-NEWSLETTER
“Wanted man in Baton Rouge
There’s somebody set to grab me
Anywhere that I might be
And wherever you might look tonight
You might get a glimpse of me”
-- Johnny Cash
An old friend of mine sent me a link to his new blog this past week. I hate to sound mean, but it was terrible. Not only was it so bad that I had to force myself to get through his initial few entries, it was so bad that there is no conceivable way that I could force myself to return there to read anything else in the future. Blogging is a dangerous thing, I realized. For a normal person to publish a blog worth reading one of two things has to be true: either they have to be having experiences that are interesting enough for another person to want to read them or they have to have enough ability as a writer to make even the most mundane experience worth reading. In the following account, I will leave it up to you to decide which of the two options applies to me. If neither is true, I invite you to immediately delete this and all future blogs that I publish.
Before I begin today’s tale, let me apologize for my extended absence of late. For the first time in years and years, I developed a staggering case of writer’s block. Blame it on the snowy weather, blame it on the Lane Kiffin fiasco in Knoxville, blame it on the ups and downs of the UT basketball team, blame it on the poor performance of my fantasy football team, blame it on me holding my breath for a few months before the final season premiere of “Lost.” For whatever reason you choose, I had to take a couple of months away from my cherished readers and catch my breath a little. I greatly appreciate everyone that has kept tabs on me via email and Facebook. Things are going well, and I am glad to be back at the keys of The Collins Chronicles.
Today I want to share a true story from my very recent past that I think you will enjoy.
As most of you are aware, BDC and family recently relocated to Georgetown, Kentucky. We absolutely adore our new home, subdivision, and town. Things are going great, and we are nearly entirely settled in by now. A slight bit of misfortune struck a couple of weeks back, though. Wife of BDC and WDC were out doing some shopping in nearby Frankfort when her wallet was either lost or stolen. This occurrence led to the inevitable cancellation of all our credit cards and other things that must be done in this day and age to prevent identity theft. The last step was just the simple matter of getting her driver’s license replaced.
Since we had recently moved, I decided to tag along and get a new drivers license for myself with my new address, as well as get registered to vote in my new county. After making it through the metal detectors and being hassled by the Kentucky police officers operating them for wearing Tennessee orange, we made our way in the county clerk’s office to get our new licenses.
Figuring that my wife’s situation would be much more difficult to resolve with her having no current license to produce, I nominated myself to get in line first and handle my simple request and get out of the way. I walked confidently to the window, produced my current driver’s license, and explained my situation to the friendly woman waiting there. Below is a transcript of the scene that followed:
CLERK: May I help you?
BDC: Yes, ma’am. I recently relocated to Scott County, and I would like to get a new license with my new address and register to vote here.
CLERK: Okay, sir. Can I see your current license?
BDC: Yes, ma’am. (handing license to clerk)
CLERK: Okay, sign your name on this sheet and then have a seat in front of the camera.
BDC: No problem. (signing sheet and taking a seat)
At this point, the clerk begins typing away on her computer keyboard. After a few moments, she leans over and grabs the phone.
CLERK: It will be just one minute, sir.
The clerk then proceeds to have a very hushed conversation with someone on the phone, before looking back in my direction.
CLERK: Excuse me, sir…have you ever been to Louisiana?
To be honest, the question caught me so completely off guard that I hesitated for a moment to consider it.
BDC: Ummm…no. I have never crossed their state line.
The clerk nodded and leaned back over toward the phone and resumed whispering, which only allowed me to catch a few words.
CLERK: No, he has never even been to Louisiana…uh-huh…uh-huh…oh…do I have to tell him that?...I have to tel-…oh, okay. Thank you. Bye. (hangs up phone)
The clerk waves me back up to the window and away from the comfort of my seat in front of the camera. The curious exchange we have just had has attracted the interest of those in line behind my wife and I, and they press forward to hear what the clerk has to say.
CLERK: Sir…I am REAL sorry, but I can not give you a new driver’s license today. The State of Louisiana has on hold on your name, because there is someone down there by the same name that is wanted by the police. You are going to have to get an official certified letter from Louisiana stating that you are not the person they are looking for before we can give you a new license. It is going to be hard. I am sorry.
At this point, I am really struggling to process all of that information, so my wife steps forward in my defense.
WIFE: You mean there is someone in Louisiana with the exact same name as him? I mean his middle name is spelled pretty uniquely… (note from BDC – thanks, Mom!)
CLERK: Oh no, ma’am! The person in Louisiana has a different middle name. it is just the same first and last name.
WIFE: So his middle name does not matter…what about his Social Security number?
CLERK: Social Security numbers are way different, too, but with the common first and last name, there is nothing I can do.
At this point, the person in line behind me exclaims a curse word on my behalf. He has moved so close to the window with us, that he seems like a part of the family now.
NEXT GUY IN LINE: Buddy, you are taking this a WHOLE LOT better than I would be!
BDC: (looking defeated) What am I gonna do about it at this point?
NEXT GUY IN LINE: Dadgum…so you never lived in Louisiana?
BDC: No...and at this point, I don’t really even ever want to visit.
NEXT GUY IN LINE: (slapping me on the back and laughing harder than seemed appropriate) OH MAN! That is funny!
After this exchange, I retreated in defeat to a nearby bench to wait on my wife to have her turn. Despite having no current license, and no proof of our new address, within seconds she has a new driver’s license in her hand. All I have in my hand as we leave is a scribbled phone number that I am told to call in my pursuit of freedom from Louisiana’s governmental hold.
As we are driving away, I dial the number that the friendly clerk has given me only to discover that it is a disconnected phone number. I quickly realize that I have no idea who I was calling in the first place, and thus no way of researching a correct number on my own. Seeing as only a handful of minutes have passed since my denial at the clerk’s window, I quickly call back to ask for any other contact numbers they may have.
CLERK: Scott County Clerk’s Office.
The voice sounds instantly familiar, and I am relieved to be speaking to the same woman I dealt with only moments ago.
BDC: Yes, ma’am. I was just in there a few minutes ago trying to get a new license with my current address, but my name was being blocked by the State of Louisiana… (waiting for the recognition of our recent encounter)
CLERK: Okay…I am not sure what you are talking about, sir.
I immediately realize the uphill battle in front of me now, so I change course.
BDC: Okay…well…I was just in your office a few minutes ago, and the lady at the window had to deny me a new license and she gave me a phone number in Louisiana to call and resolve the name issue. The number that she gave me was disconnected, so I was hoping you might have another number or could at least confirm what department in Louisiana that I need to be contacting, so that I can look it up myself.
CLERK: Okay, sir…what is the capital of Louisiana?
Somewhere in the world, my elementary school teachers began weeping, because under the mental stress of driving my car while trying to explain a convoluted situation to the exact person I just experienced the situation with who is now denying ever meeting me, my brain is left without the ability to decide if the capital of Louisiana is Baton Rouge, New Orleans, or Shreveport.
BDC: Ummm…to be honest with you…at the moment, I am not sure…is it Baton Rouge?
CLERK: (giggling) I don’t know either!
The childish giggling on the other end of the phone throws me even further off my mental game, and my irritation rises slightly.
BDC: Can I ask why it matters?
CLERK: Well I was going to Google the DMV number in the capital city.
BDC: So, it is definitely the DMV in Louisiana that I need to speak with?
CLERK: I guess so…I am not sure.
BDC: Thank you for your time.
At this point, I am beginning to be concerned that if this type of exchange is indicative of our current government abilities, I may end up doing time in Louisiana. As we stop for lunch, I Google the State of Louisiana DMV hotline. A quick call to it reveals that Baton Rouge is indeed the capital…and that they have closed their offices for the day due to receiving a couple of inches of snow. They are closed the following Monday for President’s Day and the following Tuesday for Fat Tuesday. By the time I call in on Wednesday morning, I am informed that I am caller 22 in the queue and that my wait time is estimated to be 30 minutes.
After the half hour on hold and the chance to learn a variety of interesting things about the Louisiana Office of Motor Vehicles and their offerings, my call is taken by an angry-sounding woman. I decide to kill her with kindness, and I launch into a respectful and carefully worded explanation of my situation. After listening to my story, she responds:
LADY: Okay, sir. I think I can help you. What year did you last have a driver’s license in Louisiana?
My face falls. I had clearly outlined in my earlier carefully worded explanation of my situation that I had never set foot in Louisiana. I decide to forgive her ignorance and move on.
BDC: I have never even been to Louisiana.
LADY: (giggling)
There must be some sort of training for DMV employees on how to giggle on the phone in such a way as to maximize the irritation of the person on the other end of the call.
LADY: Okay…let’s try it by your name. What is your last name?
BDC: Collins. C-O-L-L-I-N-S.
LADY: Wow…we have a LOT of Collins on this list. What is your first name?
BDC: Robert. R-O-B-E-R-T.
LADY: Okay….blackmail?
BDC: Excuse me?
LADY: Are you a black male, sir?
BDC: Oh! No, ma’am. White male.
LADY: Okay, the man we are looking for is a black male in his 40’s. It is not you.
BDC: Great. Can you send me a letter to that effect that I can take to my local county clerk?
LADY: I certainly can, sir. All I need is for you to send me a five dollar money order.
BDC: Say again.
LADY: I can get that letter out to you as soon as you send us a five dollar money order.
BDC: So…I have to pay Louisiana in order for you to tell Kentucky that you do not want me?
LADY: Yes sir. That is our policy.
BDC: Wow…just thinking out loud here…what is to keep Louisiana from flagging...say...the fifty or hundred most common names in America and then waiting on the truckloads of five dollar money orders to roll in? You would never have a budget shortfall!
LADY: There is no need to get smart with me, sir.
Needless to say, the remainder of our phone call was pretty icy. I eventually got the information I needed to send off my five dollar money order, and I am still waiting on the letter from Louisiana to clear my name.
I can’t tell you all how good it feels to be writing again. A couple of you have already gotten rambling emails from me, and I appreciate you tolerating them, as they were in large part the final boots on the door of my writer’s block being blown off the hinges. You can expect some form of regular email communication from The Collins Chronicles to resume effective immediately.
We are in the initial planning stages of a spring reader-voted tournament. Several of you submitted good ideas for potential tournament subjects in the immediate aftermath of our last comedy movie tournament, and I ask you to keep them coming in. We will begin our next tournament in April or May, and it will run throughout the summer.
In the meantime, the next opportunity for you to showcase your supremacy over your fellow readers is coming up in the return of our annual BDC Invitational NCAA Tournament Pick’em Challenge. There is no money at stake, and all you need is a Yahoo log-in to participate. We are hoping to have our largest field of teams ever for this year’s March Madness, so be sure to keep an eye out for your official invitation coming soon.
Until we meet again…God bless.
--BDC
