So it has been quite a while since my last post, sorry. . . again. It’s hard to post things on a regular basis, mainly because I just go about my life and there aren't many things that happen to me that I think make interesting stories.
Well, today I have a story for you.
The Dominican DMV is a wretched hive of scum and villainy. My US driver’s license isn't valid down here, so we are supposed to go through the process of getting a Dominican driver’s license just like all the local friends. It is, in theory, a similar process to what we have in the states: first, a written exam, then you receive your learners permit. After waiting about two months I think, you can go back and take your driving test to get a real license. Almost a year ago, I went and took the written test, and I have been driving with a permit, which is just fine for a motorcycle, and I don't have a car so it was never a problem. However, a permit is only valid for a year.
So today I went to take my driving exam.
You start the process going to the bank to pay the taxes and fees to obtain a license. It is telling that the government dictates that you have to pay at the bank, because the people at the DMV are not qualified to handle any money. As a matter of fact, the first thing you see when you arrive at the DMV parking lot is a giant sign that says “YOU DO NOT HAVE TO PAY ANYONE TO ‘FACILITATE’ ANY PROCESES.” Upon entering the building itself there are at least 4 copies of a sign that say “In these offices you should not pay any money to anyone for the government services offered here.” There are also signs that have the number for the anti-corruption hotline. (Yeah, that’s right, the Dominican has an “anti-corruption” hotline, although you have to give them a little something first before they will hear your complaint). So the first thing that happens when you get there with the receipts from the bank and your ID, is they take you to a back room with a photocopier to make copies of your documents. A few of the instructors that administer the test are sitting around with one of the secretaries that do your paperwork. They were on their break, singing gospel songs. (I can’t make this stuff up) While they have you back there, the subject first comes up:
“If you like, I can take care of this license for you. . .”
I started out playing dumb. “What do you mean?”
“You can just leave your papers here with me and pick your license up in an hour.”
“How does that work?”
“Bueno, for 800 pesos. . .”
So I pull out my Dominican ID and point to what it says under ‘Occupation’
“See this, I am a missionary, one of Jehovah’s Witnesses, un hombre de dios. . .”
“Oh, sure sure, no problem, I am Christian too, only 500 pesos for you. . .”
“No, you don’t understand, we follow the law, if the law says I have to go take the test, I will go take the test.”
I get a blank stare
“I’m not giving you a bribe, I’m going to obey the law”
So then he starts to backpedal
“I understand, I am a god-fearing man too. It’s hard to do what is right with Satan all around”
Yeah, you’re tellin me.
So they let me go register to take the exam, and I’m told that it starts around the corner at 2. All the people who are taking the test should be there at 2, and then come back to the office after they are done. We have about 20 minutes to kill, so we head over early to where the test is supposed to start. There we find the layout for the parallel parking test. It is A) composed of cones with sticks that do not stick up far enough to be seen and B) sticking far out into the road, like parking between two wide load trailers. The guy I’m with, whose SUV I am borrowing for the test, gives it a try. Fail. We are thinking, no way this can be a real test. So I walk over to this lady who is sitting out in front of a “driving school.”
“Is this where the test starts?”
“yup”
“Is that the real parallel parking test?”
“yup”
“That’s crazy! Does anyone actually pass it?”
“nope”
“Say what?!?!?!”
“well, everyone just pays . . . if you want, for 800 pesos we can park it for you”
“of course you will . . . no thanks, I have a few minutes, I’m going to go practice”
So I spend the next 20 minutes trying to parallel park for the first time in 5 years . . . in an unfamiliar SUV. I finally got it in without hitting the sticks, even if I still was a good bit away from the curb. At this point it is 2:15. No other cars have shown up to take the test, and no instructors have shown up to administer the test. So back we go to the DMV offices to see what is going on. When I show up, the instructors seem surprised that there is anyone actually taking the test. So one of the guys gets in the car with me, and off we go, just the two of us, to take my test.
First up, parallel parking. He gets out and watches me, and I am just praying to be calm, take it easy, do it well. Wouldn’t you know it, swish, right in, a foot away from the curb. I was ecstatic! Ha! Take that! My instructor comes over to the window:
“No, this is bad, you are too close to the curb, take it out and try again”
Ok, so attempt number two. I put it in, thinking to myself, ‘ok, not so close this time.’
“No, no good, too far away”
You have got to be kidding me.
He gets back in and makes some notes on his clipboard.
“You didn’t do well there” he tells me, “but don’t worry, I’ll help you out”
Oh great.
So on with the driving route. I don’t know the route, so I am depending on him to tell me where to go. When we get to each intersection, he tells me which way to turn. After a few turns he tells me:
“You’re not doing very well. You need to turn your turn signals on earlier.”
“Ok, you’re right, they should be on earlier. So maybe you can tell me which way we are turning earlier?”
Next up on the test is a curved entranceway to a vacant lot. I am supposed to back up, around the curve, and park where the yellow line ends. Backing up, I have to back around a big pile of leaves and branches that the rain left piled up in the gutter. I am driving over all kinds of trash and debris. You can really tell that this testing course gets a lot of use.
When I park the car, we get out to check how I did. It looks good to me, about a foot away from the curb . . . but of course, nothing is that simple.
“This is too close”
“It is a foot away from the curb”
“The gutter is included in the curb”
He then proceeds to scrape away some of the junk on the road to uncover that there is in fact a cement gutter that extends about a foot out from the curb, before the asphalt starts. Well, he’s the boss, so I give it another try. This time, to find the edge of the gutter, he has to scrape away about two inches of gravel that is completely coving the gutter and the whole side of the road. Once he finds the edge, he uses his sneaker to measure where my tire is at. As it turns out, his sneaker goes about an inch past the edge of my tire.
“No, this is too close”
“You can’t even see the gutter or the curb because of all the gravel and trash”
Yeah, like that matters at this point. He looks at me with a straight face and says:
“I’m trying to help you, but you only have one more point left to loose or you fail”
All that is left is to drive back to the DMV, what could go wrong?
“Do you know what the yellow line in the middle is for?” he asks me.
“Of course, it is the dividing line that you can’t cross”
“Then why did you cross the line?”
Oh come on! Now you are just making stuff up! But I kept my cool:
“Sir, I am fairly certain that I didn’t cross the line, I know that you can’t cross the yellow line”
“Yes you did”
Dear God, help me keep my cool with this idiot. . .
When we pull into the DMV he looks over his “notes” and says to me:
“You didn’t do very well, lots of errors, but let me see if I can’t help you out”
How kind of him, offering to help me out like that. He told me to wait while he went inside to talk with the others. I guess someone must have told him about my stand earlier, because when he came back out he just told me to go in and wait for my license. Vamos a ver
Now, the way the Dominican DMV works is that they do the licenses in batches. From noon to two they take care of learners permits, and all of the permit cards come out at the same time to be handed out. The group that needs a license starts at two and when they are all done, out come the cards. A dozen people received their licenses with me that afternoon. Funny, I don’t remember seeing anyone else out on the test course.
So I have my license, we get back in the car to leave, done deal right? You would think. As we are about to pull out of the parking lot, here comes my instructor. Must want to say goodbye after the good times we had together. . .
“I see you have your license”
“Yes, thank you” (It is the polite thing to say, right?)
“You know, you made a lot of errors, I really had to help you out . . . maybe you should help me out with some money”
Seriously . . . SERIOUSLY
I pull out my ID again with its handy occupation line:
“I’ll tell you the same thing I told the people inside . . .”
“Yeah yeah yeah, this has nothing to do with Dios, just a little bit of money”
Just then my cell rings, it’s my roommate. Thankful for the distraction, I excuse myself and pick it up. When he asks me how things are going at the DMV, I get an idea:
“I’m still working on it” I say into the phone, the Dominican instructor not a foot away from me,
“It hasn’t been very easy; you know how these people are, trying to ask for bribes and get money out of you. . .”
I guess I must have shamed the guy enough, because by the time I hung up, he was gone.
its not finished, but we can climb up the sides and cross on foot:
