On The Silly Side by Jimmy Del Ponte

(The opinions and views expressed in the commentaries of The Somerville News belong solely to the authors of those commentaries and do not reflect the views or opinions of The Somerville News, its staff or publishers.)

Every so often I have to be true to the name of this column, On The Silly Side. We chose that name because silly things are always happening around me, and to me. The column has morphed into a forum for telling stories about Somerville and its people, mostly from days gone by. Well, this week it’s about me and another Somerville person, namely, my son. It is set in the present.

The day I was worried about for years finally came. My teenage son was going to get his driving learner’s permit. He called me from his mother’s house the night before. He was all excited. He downloaded all the info onto his phone and he was studying for the learner’s permit test. I got out of work early and picked him up. “Do you have all the papers and documents you need?” “Yes.” “Fine. Let’s go.” We went to the Watertown Registry in the mall. It was packed. It was Memorial Day weekend Friday and the Registry was going to be closed on Monday.

The line to get a ticket was out the door. Some guy cut right in front of us. Instead of tapping him on the shoulder and informing him that he cut, I turned to my son. In a planned obnoxious voice I said, “Do you believe this guy just cut us in line? What an idiot!” The guy didn’t budge. If the place wasn’t so crowded I wouldn’t have cared so much. Strangely, the guy left the line before getting a ticket. When he left I muttered, “Guess I told him!”

So we make it up front and get a ticket. It was number C54. The estimated wait time, one hour! All I was thinking about was the fact that we were heading up north for the weekend and I still had some packing to do. I thought maybe the line would move quickly. After all, how many people could be taking the learners’ permit test? We started waiting at 12:30. It didn’t move to C55 for 25 minutes. Do the math. Twenty-five minutes per number, at 11 numbers. We would be there all day! I started freaking out. I didn’t even bring my newspaper in from the car or my water bottle because I thought we would be in and out. Ya, right!

My son starts reading the “requirement check list.” He said that we may need some piece of identification with his signature on it. “Great! Didn’t you look at this list last night when you were studying? What if we wait all this time and don’t have the right stuff with us?” I knew he had the birth certificate, his social security card, a check for $30.00. I was getting antsy. I said, “This line isn’t moving at all, maybe we should come back.” My son said, “Well we’re here now so we might as well stay.”

It’s 1 p.m. now and finally the line starts to move a little. A very little. Then it moves a little more. Then another kiosk opens with the C letter group, which is examinations. That was short lived because it shut down shortly thereafter. I go across the mall and buy a Boston Globe because I already had The Herald in the car. The numbers start to move …C56. Then for some reason it skips to C59.

It is now 1:30 and we have been at the stinking registry for one hour. A woman who was sitting next to us was knitting. She had been there since noon with her son who was also trying to get a learner’s permit. All the while I am being the biggest jerk to my poor son. I kept saying, “We picked the wrong day to come,” and “I still have to pack for the weekend.” He was trying to stay cool.

Finally, we are one number away! We hear the little bell sound and the annoying recording of the woman’s voice saying, “Now serving number C54 at window number 8.” SUCCESS! It was 2 p.m. and with the test taking around 20 minutes we should be out of there by 2:40 or so. All I was thinking about was the traffic. We walk up to the woman behind the desk and she is very nice. Smiling happily, she says, “Hello.” My son tells her he is here for a learner’s permit test and she says, “Okay, let’s see your forms!” She takes his forms and says,”Oh, you need an original copy of your birth certificate!” It was like someone punched me in the chest. I almost had a conniption. She took his form and wrote something on the top and told us that when we came back with the correct forms, we would not have to wait in line again.

I decided to try to make it back home and look for the original copy of his birth certificate. We did that while I was preaching the whole way to my son about how he should have had all the proper documents ready before, and how I wasted all that time. The poor kid. I was being my father. All I cared about was packing the truck and heading north.

We never found the original birth certificate but it was okay. I felt bad all weekend and promised to get an original copy and take him back as soon as we could. You see, I was stressed out. I was trying to be a good dad by taking him for his test, but it all fell apart with the long wait and the lack of proper forms.

In the big scope of things that was nothing. But I made it something. He texted to his mother that “Dad was being a jerk!” And I was. But I am not going to beat myself up. I do plenty for my kids and sometimes I snap. They squawk about taking the dog out and helping with yard work, etc., so I can squawk when I need to, right? Right. I don’t squawk when they need expensive sneakers! Okay enough with the squawking.

So we had an enjoyable Memorial Day weekend, and on the ride home I was giving my soon to be new driver an earful. “That jerk in the Black Navigator must be doing at least 85! And look at the idiot weaving in and out of lanes without signaling!” I will never lose that Somerville edge.

Happy to say that I obtained an original copy of the birth certificate, with the help of Jenneen in the Clerk’s office at City Hall, and we’re going back in!