I sat behind the wheel, and for the first time there was no parent or driving instructor riding next to me. Instead, a bearded employee of the New York DMV watched me and judged my turns and speed. I hated him. Not out of spite or anger, but just because of the power he held over me. And of course, I just didn't like the DMV to begin with.
I drove with him next to me for the most awkward 15 minutes of my life; him staring at me, and I at the road. Soon it was over, and I crawled back into the parking lot of the DMV. He starts to speak in one of the most apathetic tones I have ever heard, "Congratulations, Clarke. Hand this to the lady at the desk on the way in so that she can give you a license." And with those words, I decided that I no longer hated him.
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