Oh, the Bureaucracy

Have you ever been on a restricted driver's license? It sucks.

Perhaps I should start at the beginning:

Months ago, back in April, I was partying with some friends. We were having a grand old time, as we had just returned from a roller derby in DC, and were kicking back at their place, shooting darts, playing cards and beer pong and having a few (ok, lets say a lot of) drinks.

Now these are good people. Anyone who comes to their place is welcome to stay the night if they drove there. Of course, being responsible, I wholly intended to stay.

But circumstances changed as midnight neared. A few of them (not all, but enough) decided to smoke a few blunts.

Now I'm no narc, but I don't partake. I also don't judge people when they decide to rebel against the establishment. After all, a little rebellion keeps the establishment in check and helps it evolve over time. But all the same, I don't participate in the consumption of a substance that is still deemed illegal in the Commonwealth of Virginia.

Also, I can't stand the smell.

So, Cheech and Chong lit up and I bolted.

Now, when I tell people I got a DUI, their first question is usually "What did you hit?" Gee, thanks for the confidence in my driving, assholes. That aside, what got me caught was speeding.

I was less than a quarter mile from my house when I was pulled over. I was on a street that I have driven almost every day since getting my license. I know every crest, dip and turn of that stretch. As a result, I tend to take it quite a bit faster than most would.

And of course I was just a hair over the legal limit of .08.

Now, when they bring you in, they make you blow into the breathalyzer they have at the station house since it's more accurate than the one police are given in the field. I did it twice and both times it malfunctioned. The procedure then is to drive the arrestee over to the nearby hospital, where a blood sample is drawn. Then the Magistrate determines if you can be released and gives you a court date,

Weeks go by and I'm in court with my newfound lawyer. I've been told that the bloodwork is not in yet and the prosecution is going to ask for a continuance. The judge grants it, because they always get delayed, and sets a new court date. Two months later, I'm back in court and it's still not in. This time, the judge is wavering between a dismissal and another continuance, but she went with the continuance. FML, right?

So at the third court date, the results are finally in, and it's exactly at .08. Double FML.

But since it was so close, it got pled down to a reckless driving with a six month restricted license. That means I can only drive to and from work, which I have to tell the court where it is ahead of time.

Anyone living in the city would say, "what's the problem?" Well, I live in a suburb 15 minutes outside the DC Capital Beltway, and public transit system out here is, well, actually there's no polite way of accurately describing how horrible the bus system is down in these parts.

But the worst part is that I'm actively searching for a second job, and when they ask when I'd be able start I'm gonna have to explain that I'll need at least two days to ask the court's permission to drive to my new job.

That might be a turn-off to potential employers...

So, to sum up, for the next six months I am screwed by a bureaucratic system simply because I wanted to avoid a potentially bad situation. What kind of message is that going to send to my future children when I tell the tale of my restricted license? Sigh...