Saturday, May 12, 2007

Next week I'm gonna look into the process for getting a walking license

After the time I’ve spent abroad in developing countries, I’ve gotten to the point where I expect a certain amount of bureaucracy when doing just about anything involving the government. But today was a high point of how funny and just plain ridiculous bureaucracy can get. I might’ve found it frustrating if it wasn’t so hilarious.


So a few months after I got here, and after riding my bike a whole lot, I found out that it’s illegal to ride a bike here without a bike-driving license. That’s right, a bike-driving license. I remember laughing the first time I heard that. And mainly because it all seemed so ridiculous, I didn’t really take seriously the idea of getting one for most of my time here. But then, a couple months ago, as much as I’d already gotten most of the use I would get out of my bike, I realized that I wouldn’t feel quite right unless I did my part to “obey, honor, and sustain the law”, and so I started trying to make time for the process to get a bike license. And today, I did it. First I went to the city government building, where I had the usual series of papers to fill out and take to different windows to get stamped and paid for (As anyone in the fam would probably say about now, or anyone else who’s seen Asterix and the Twelve Tasks, “You have to go window 838 to get the pink form, but before that you need to go to window 827 to get the green form in triplicate,” etc etc etc.). I then learned that I had to have two photos, which I actually knew already and had already taken, but left at home—so I had a hour (the driving test was scheduled to start at one in the afternoon, and it was noon) to rush back to my house on the other side of town, grab the photos, and run back. When I got back, about 15 minutes late, I had another form to fill out, and then I was sent to take the test at the Fire Department about 10 blocks away. When I got to the Fire Department, as opposed to seeing what I might have expected to see (a group of people heading off to take the test, which I might have to beg a little to be able to join, having come late), I found about three or four firemen kinda hanging around. When I asked about the test, one of ‘em got up to poke around a bit for me and find out what the process was (something seemed to tell me that this “the test is only offered Friday and Tuesday at one” bit wasn’t exactly a hard and fast rule), and I found out that the guy that gives the bike test is eating lunch. So, after trying to politely decline an offer to just have my papers signed and let me be on my way without taking the test, I sat down to wait for the testing guy.


When he showed up, he kinda reminded me of a 5-foot-one version of George C. Scott in Patton. Very shined shoes, the best pressed uniform you’d ever seen, and a face that said “Those who have attempted to give me crap are buried under the fire truck”. At this point, I gotta say I was pretty curious as to what would be included on this test.


Which is part of what makes the test itself so hilarious. I never once had to get on my bike—the test consisted of four questions, said with the straightest the-toilet-just-blew-up-in-my-face face you’ve ever seen:


Question #1: What is a bicycle?


I mean, c’mon—questions about traffic signs, yielding to cars, whatever, I might have been expecting it. But what is a bicycle?


Question #2: How does a bicycle work?
My answer: Um, your legs give it the power to go?
[Insert I’m-gonna-kill-you pause and stare right here]
Toilet-face-man: With your legs? Don’t you push it with your feet?
Me: Um, aren’t your feet part of your legs?
Toilet-face-man: [Cue look of utter disgust and shaking of head and “Tsk, tsk, tsk”]
Me: OK, yes, that’s exactly what I mean, with the feet.


Question #3: What does it mean to have priority on the road?


Apparently, I soon learned, there are tons of intersections with no stop or yield signs, and when four cars or vehicles meet at one of these, the law dictates that one of them must decide to let everyone else go first, and that that driver will make sure that everyone else crosses in an orderly fashion. So traffic laws here are built on the scientific assumption that there will always be one very kind, patient driver out of every four. ….yes.


Question #4: What is an intersection?
My answer: A place where two roads meet.
Toilet-face-man: Just two?
Me: Um, no I suppose not—a place where two or more roads meet.
Toilet-face-man [said dead serious]: WRONG! [Pause for dramatic effect] …It is the meeting-place of two or more roads.


I had some serious trouble keeping a straight face during this oh-so-thorough examination. Especially when I found out another guy who arrived after me failed on the What-is-a-bicycle question. If anyone is ever looking for any material for a Danny-Kaye-style slapstick comedy, I know a fireman they need to meet.

6 comments:

Unknown said...

So, Rolfe, how did you answer #1? Your experience makes me think of all the possible licenses (besides walking) . . . kite flying, food purchasing, restroom using . . . you might be on to something here. Bambie A

Rolfo said...

Doooood, you know you're famous when your best friend's mom is posting on your blog. Moms are a totally new level of famousness.

I think I said something along the lines of "It's a mode of transportation, with two wheels, that doesn't have a motor, that you drive with your feet, and that has a part you use to steer up front..." I was kinda rambling waiting for the moment when he would see that I knew what a bicycle is and how ridiculous his question was, but that moment, um, kinda never came.

Kristy said...

I still can't believe he didn't notice those calves. But oh well. I'm glad you remembered this story so well, and that its on paper now (well, sort of). It's definitely one to regail your kids with someday.

P.S. I found out where they're filming Lost. Anime and I :) are going to try to find the place in the next few days: all on the North shore. I'll make sure to take pictures--and send Locke your best wishes.

NEC said...

hey Rolf I remember when Amude told us at dinner and we were laughing so hard because we thought he was being sarcastic and then he got all pissed like "Why don't you believe me!" It kind of does make sense and I really like how it legitimizes bikes, but only in a really bizarre way.

In SLC, you have to get your bike registered at the City County building. IT's really just a preventative measurefor pawn shops or whatever, but I got pulled over by a cop on my bike last month ( I am so not joking) at Critical Mass downtown and the first thing he said was "Do you have a driver's liscene?" and then "Is your bike registered?" Yes to both counts but it just pointed out to me the weird levels of beauracracy that exist in every gov just because the nature of politics is so exacting.

Trying to make rules that apply for everyone is a tedius process and I guess this is one of the loop holes.

Oh man, I love those "test questions" though. Hilarious!

hoolia goolia said...

I will have you know that this story was read-aloud in full by me to the Sammage and there was much hooting and teehee-ing on our parts. Bureaucracy is my favorite!!!

Joe Straubhaar said...

There is something really sick and twisted about the Portuguese legacy of bureaucracy in its former colonies. Mostly licenses are there to justify a job whose holder is a little surprised if you actually turn up rather than ignoring the law, like most people, or just paying the fee (or a bribe)and skipping all the rest. So let the nice firemen just sign your papers next time ;<).
Maybe this compulsion to actually use the bureaucracy comes from your mother, who once tried to get an amazed and appalled Brazilian customs inspector to actually look at the forms allowing us to import a computer. His look was priceless. "Why is this madwoman trying to get me to follow the actual procedures, when I am trying to do us all a favor by waving her through?"

Dad, who remembers some monumental line standing in Brazil.