The Bay State's Finest

In the past couple days, I've seen the best and the worst that Massachusetts has to offer. A couple of days ago, I came home from work, satisfied at a nice day working outside, in some of the most glorious weather that has ever graced God's creation. The sense of wonderment I got from it is indescribable.

Wednesday was probably the most perfect day I have experienced here in New England, where the weather can sometimes drive one to madness as well. It was 72 degrees; the sky was a sparkling, clear, cloudless blue. Literally not one whiff of cloud was to be seen. A stiff, yet gentle and refreshing breeze blew, rustling beautiful green leaves, and perfectly complementing the already perfect temperature. I even texted a couple New England friends that "God hasn't made many days more perfect than this one."

My cares, worries, anxieties, stresses... they all melted away with the magnificent experience of it all. I was happy in a way that I find myself increasingly missing -- though I am in general, and in almost all situations, an optimistic, cheerful person. Albeit with a cynical, sarcastic side.

Yesterday however, after another day of work in nearly equally perfect weather (only the temperature had changed -- risen slightly), I was driving home in another state of blissful ignorance. In a few minutes, it was all shattered, and my enjoyment of yet another glorious (though warmer still) day today has been ruined.

A Massachusetts state trooper caught me speeding in my VA-tagged car. I had no excuse for my infraction, and when he asked me for one, I could not give him one. I cooperated with him fully, and even somewhat cheerfully, still riding the wave of happiness that accompanied the beautiful weather.

I gave him my VA license, at which point he informed me that as a resident of Massachusetts, I had only had 30 days in which to get licensed in MA, and I had passed that point. I told him I was unaware of that rule. He then asked if I had any outstanding warrants or infractions against me in either VA or MA. I replied in the negative to both, confident that he would find my clean driving record*, and perhaps, with a bit of luck and the positive spirit in the air, let me off with a speeding ticket and an admonition to update my license to MA.

*I have not had a traffic infraction, including speeding, in over 5 years, which would mean that my driving record should show no infractions at all. I was very proud of this.

There was to be no such leniency. I waited in my vehicle while he ran my license and plates for what began to seem like a little too long. When he finally returned to me, he asked me to turn off my car, leave the key in the ignition and step out. Confused but cooperative, I did as I was told.

In an instant, he informed that my VA license had been suspended, so in addition to the speeding ticket, he was citing me for driving on a suspended license, keeping my VA license, and having my vehicle towed. I asked, "Am I going to have to pay them to get it from their lot?" He replied, "Yes." Because the car is still registered to my mother, and not to me, he told me he wouldn't be taking the plates. What a favor. The tow truck was just arriving. I had only a few seconds to gather up my belongings from the vehicle, including especially anything valuable. He told me I needed to call someone for a ride. Confused, harried, unsure why my VA license had been suspended without any notice to me, I hurriedly gathered up my car iPod player, my cooler in which I carry my lunch to work, and a clean shirt to cover up my paint shirt.

Let me paint the scene. I am pulled over in a parking spot in front of Wollaston Beach, in Quincy, MA. This beach is about 10 miles south of Boston. Directly offshore are numerous tiny islands dotting the bay. In the hazy distance, one can see the skyline of Boston. It is a nice beach, and on a gorgeous day like yesterday, at 5:30, it was full of those enjoying the public area: sunbathers, joggers, bikers, walkers, swimmers (though not many), dog-walkers, mothers and their children... a wonderfully idyllic scene.

Now contrast that with me, standing on the sidewalk, having just been informed that I have been stripped of my license, my personal property which is being loaded onto a flatbed truck, and I have to find my own way home, which is still some 20 miles away. I am confused, a little frightened, a lot frustrated, and unsure of why this is happening to me or where to begin to resolve it. I could think of absolutely no reason why my license should be suspended. I frantically called anyone I could think that may be able to pick me up.

"Any luck finding a ride?" the cop asked from behind the truck. "Not yet," I responded, attempting to intone extreme annoyance in my voice. Perhaps I should have been more demonstrative.

In another flash, my car was hauled off, and behind the truck, the state policeman, with nary a word of explanation, encouragement or help, drove off as well. Truly, Massachusetts' finest. I am not a criminal, but I was certainly treated as one. And Bay Staters wonder why residents and businesses (with all the tax revenue they both provide) are leaving their state in droves.

I am left unable to get myself to my place of employment today and tomorrow while I sort through the legal red tape to untangle myself from this mess. My dealing with the state of VA, which came first this morning, in an effort to determine the cause of my license suspension, was relatively quick, easy and painless.

My ordeal with Massachusetts has only begun, as I have already been once to the DMV, waited for over an hour to obtain a license, only to be rejected. I can only hope that I am able to resolve the situation early next week, in an effort to be able to return to work so I can make money which will then undoubtedly be used to pay whatever additional fees I incur in my future dealings with the state (not the least of which will be the licensing fee: a tidy $110. Because the gentleman reviewing my application and snapping my terrible picture has to put in so much effort for all 5 minutes.).

If you are still reading, and have not been bored to tears by my story of woe: congratulations, and thanks for sticking it out. I'm sorry I have no great realization for you. But perhaps, a lesson: doublecheck your license status, and don't get caught speeding in Massachusetts.

Oh, and the red line is only several blocks' walk from Wollaston Beach.

I've Got Nothing

Sorry for the drought here. I've literally got not much to discuss. I've been working doing manual labor... again. Painting houses, if you must know. It ain't the best work, which is why I stopped doing it a couple years ago when I moved up to Boston. But it hasn't been too bad. It's nice to work outside, get some exercise, rather than sitting in a back-wrecking desk chair, finding ways to avoid doing desk work, all the while wishing that I was outside doing work and getting exercise.

So that's good, I suppose. The other good news is that my teaching license has been approved, pending my passing scores on the teaching exams that I took a few weeks ago.

So I've been applying to a few teaching jobs, and one looks like exactly what I'd like. Keep your fingers crossed for me! Time is growing short before most schools start back up, so I really need to find something quickly.