Getting a new driver's license in the South

One day, when I was still relatively new to the South, I had to get a new driver’s license. So, I went to the local DMV. Upon my arrival, I was greeted by a huge hand-written sign that read “Public display of profanity is a misdemeanor and will be prosecuted.”

“Ooookay, well then”, I thought and stepped inside where about 8 more of these signs plastered the walls. Something told me that this office often has to deal with profanity.

I was still wondering if the neon orange walls might have something to do with that, when an officer handed me the license application forms and told me– just in case I hadn’t gotten the message yet –that I am not supposed to use any profanities when filling out the forms in the waiting room.

The waiting room was a small room next door and the walls were no longer neon orange with handwritten signs on it, but instead a poster read “Stop domestic violence against women and children in the rural south”. Since I was the only customer at the DMV, there wasn't really any waiting on my part, so I just completed the forms:

No – I don’t have a middle name,
No – I am not a US citizen
No – I would not like to register to vote,
but
Yes, - I would like to donate my organs in case of a fatal accident.

Turns out that if
No - I don’t have a middle name and
No – I don’t have US citizenship and
No – I don’t register to vote Republican
then
NO - they also don’t want my organs in case of a fatal accident.

Fine! If I end up as road pizza, I’ll take my Germanic flesh and blood – or whatever might be left of it – and I’ll have it shipped back to Europe. Thank you very much!

I was still recovering from the fact that my precious gift of life for some profanity using Mississippian was denied when the officer called me to step up to the counter for some questioning and picture taking.

Seriously, is it really possible to look good in a license picture if you’ve just been asked about your height and weight? - I don’t think so.

So, there was really nothing I could do. I blame the orange walls for my skin looking purple and a couple other things in my life. When I was finally handed my license, it took a lot of willpower to suppress my urge to publicly display profanity. Suddenly, everything made sense.