Thank God That's Over

Something I've always wanted to do but never really committed myself to working toward was going to law school. I thought, "that'd be cool. I'd like to be a lawyer." But then said to myself, "Naahhh. That's a lot of school, and it takes a lot of effort." Then recently, I decided What the Hell? I may as well take the damn LSAT and see how I fare. (I think I mentioned this in a previous post.) Well today, test day finally arrived.

After little preparation and much consternation I took my number two pencils and my current ID (which took a trip to the DMV beforehand) on up to UT to sit for five long, miserable hours with 95 or so recent college grads and bubble in answer sheets. The printable instructions online informed me that a number of items would not be allowed in the testing center. Namely, no cell phone. Furthermore, what items were allowed (wallet, ID, pencils, non-analog watch, sharpener, eraser, and highlighter pen) had to be brought in via a clear ziploc bag no larger than one gallon. Can you believe this shit? It's easier to get on a god damned plane than to take this fucking test!

My boyfriend (and myself to some extent) had concerns that since my photo ID was expired they (you know..."them") wouldn't let me take the test. As it turned out, it wasn't the paper renewal permit the "enforcer" had an issue with, but the actual photo on my old ID. He didn't believe it was me! OK, now, I know it was 10 years ago but jeezus! "Is this you?!" He asked. "Unfortunately" I responded. Silence. Lots of looking down at ID followed by looking up at me. "Are you serious?" I finally asked. "I mean, my hair is different yes. And I look more like my mom in that photo than I'd like to admit. But...c'mon! Have I aged that much?!" He wasn't convinced. He got another one of his "nobody's getting nothing by on us" crew members who asked me to "smile". I did (as best I could; I'm not a smiler anyway and didn't have much of a smile on in the photo). This seemed to work. She told him the smile matched and to check my signature--you had to sign your admittance ticket in front of them along with a thumb print. What drama! I kept thinking "Do I look like a fucking ringer to you?!"

The gestapo then took their roles pacing the aisles back and forth, making sure we didn't open our test booklets ahead of time, that no contraband were anywhere near our desks and that we weren't close enough to each other to get a good glance at a scantron, or worse, speak with one another.

And now, I'm just relieved it's all over. After five hours you don't even care how well you did, you just wanna go home.


(God...I hope I did OK)