My Trip To Hell (more commonly known as the DMV)

No offense, Rick Riordan, but the entrance to hell is not actually in a used car dealership.  It's a little establishment they like to call the Department of Motor Vehicles.  This is why when people ask me where I was on Wednesday, July 27, 2011, I can say I went to hell and back.

Unlike Dante, Virgil did not take me to the DMV.  My mom did.  When we first went inside, we entered  the first level; a line leading to a desk where you tell the demon guarding the gates why you're there.  

"I was a ruthless gambler." here translates to "I'm here to get my learners permit."  "I cheated on my wife" means the same thing as "I'm here to renew my licensee."  "I killed a man." means "I'm here to take my drivers test."  Oh how I love metaphors.  

After I told the desk demon my woeful tale of ruthless gambling, she snarled at me and thrust a complicated looking form in my direction.  I thanked her, took a number, and had to duck as she snorted flames at me, singing my eyebrows.  

I boarded a boat and rode the river Styx down to level number two, the waiting area.  I looked around at my fellow suffering souls, their eyes glazed over as they tried to remember inane bits of information such as their mother's social security number or the number of hairs on their great uncle's left pinky toe. Choosing a seat in the second row, my mother and I started to tackle the forms.  After forty five decades (here translating to minutes.) our number, T101, was finally called.  And so I began my descent into the third level, verification of identity.  

After a new demon scrutinized all of my papers and finally accepted my existence, he pointed with a clawed finger to a pit of fire with a computer screen.  And so begins level four: part one of the test.

After answering questions ranging in difficulty from "Who has the right of way at a four way intersection with no stop signs?" to "Does this sign mean a) deer crossing or b) merge left?"

After finishing the test, just as I was about to exit the fire pit, a pop-up on my computer said "Error 5546825.7: Test not valid.  See examiner." Hesitantly, I approached the testing demon and told him my dilemma.  After snarling at me and poking me with his trident, he tried and failed to set up the test in a different fire pit.  So he had to print me a hard copy from his computer.  

After ascending into levels five and six, the manual tests, I had to get back on my boat and sail once again to the waiting area.  Thus entering the seventh and penultimate level of hell: the waiting.  I sat there for an eternity waiting for the testing demon to grade my test.  If I didn't pass, I would have to start my entire journey over again in a few days time.  Finally, I was summoned to the eighth and final level.  Approaching the desk once again, I prayed for a passing score.  

The demon thrust a paper at me, with the words "Learners Permit" at the top, followed with my name and information.  I had passed!  I gleefully ran up the stairs careful not to look behind me.  After hours of waiting I burst through the gates and into the sunlight of the world of the living.  I was free!

......And that, people, is what you call exaggeration! But I had been wanting to try writing a simile themed post for a while, so when the opportunity arose I took it.  Hopefully I haven't offended anyone... it's all just for fun.  Also, since then I have been driving twice, both times around my school parking lot.  The second time I had to keep dodging a swarm of vicious geese.  But I'm getting the hang of it, and I'm excited to try going on read roads.  I'll keep you updated on that!