I was 16 and applying for my first driver’s license. I was nervous. (We will save the story about how I hit the car next to me while backing out to begin my driver’s test for another day when I’ve had four beers.)
I was filling out the information on the license application. I was ready for this. Name? Got it. Date of birth? Tough, but yes. Address? Written down. Copied. Sex? No, dammit. thanks for reminding me.
Eye color? I had no freaking idea what color my eyes were.
My life flashed before my eyes. I remember Ma always said that my eyes would change colors depending on my clothes color. Ma made up a lot of stuff. I think she said they were blue. Or green. or pink. I had no idea. What to do?
Sure, I could have asked the DMV person standing 3 feet away from me. I could have asked any of the other 100 people in the room what color my eyes were. But that would require talking to a stranger, so.
I took a shot. Brown.
And so, that’s what my official eye color became. As it turns out, they were hazel or green or something. I still can’t tell. But definitely not brown. It stayed that way through my years in Texas, till the time I moved to Arizona in 1986 and finally got a new license. At which time, they were listed as:
Brown. They just picked up info from the Texas license. I wanted to say something, but, well you know.
And then finally, four years ago, we moved back to Texas. A fresh start. Finally redemption. But, alas, took the information from the original before I could speak up. So my current license says my eyes are:
I suppose I should be glad that I’ve never been in a situation that required such scrutiny of my license. And that I’m at the age where I’m seldom carded at the bar. But still. I live the fearful life of a desperado, one step ahead of the law. Although the law in this case tends to be the parking-meter attendant who circles the block around work waiting for me to arrive at 5:50 when pay parking goes up till 6:00. You shan’t get my dime, lady! If indeed shan’t is actually a word. I’m out of touch with the King James translation.
Luckily, my license is up for renewal in 2017. At last my official eye color will be listed as:
Because to change it would require talking to a stranger. And anyhow, we’ve come this far. Might as well finish up together. And I’ll probably smack the car next to me while backing out of my parking space, just for old times sake.
I wonder how much brown contact lenses would cost …