Pink Permits People to Practice: Step 109

For those readers who follow this blog on a regular basis it would be redundant for me to state how important attaining a driver’s license is to most teenagers. However, for those who are reading this blog for the first time, or only occasionally check to see what is going on let me reiterate my contention that few events have the impact upon a teenager, especially the male of the species, as getting a driver’s license.

Even with driver’s education classes readily available at high schools throughout Wisconsin when I attended, a person still had to pass tests given by state officials at centers the department of motor vehicles placed in various neighborhoods. Prior to getting behind the wheel of a vehicle and learning to drive on the road the individual had to pass a written test showing a clear understanding of the rules of the road. At the time a person had to reach the age of sixteen to take the written test. I don’t know what changes in the law have taken place in Wisconsin, but during the course of the past decade my daughters were able to take their written test in California at the age of 15 years and 6 months.

During the six and a half weeks from New Years Day until my sixteenth birthday there was nothing else on my mind but what was in the driver’s education manual. Every waking minute was spent going over the various road signs, what to do when approaching an intersection, the correct procedure for switching lanes, and steps to take when pulling out into traffic.

Just about everyone I knew had convinced his father or mother to take him on his birthday to the testing station on Villard Avenue. Out of the nearly one hundred questions on the test a person could get no more than eight incorrect answers. I guess the state has a higher bar when it comes to licensing people to drive than when issuing a diploma for completing high school or college where 90 % usually earns a B or an A grade.

Two weeks into the new year M took his written test. Although he may have struggled getting ready he was the first among us to have the thin pink piece of paper that allowed a person to drive a vehicle on the streets. Actually, as a learner a person needed to be accompanied by a licensed driver over the age of 25, which usually meant a parent.

Since Jeff M was a full day older than Jeff P and myself we anxiously awaited the result of his written test that Wednesday. As soon as he was home he phoned Jeff P, who then phone me with the result. I think we both were half hoping he would fail and take some of the pressure off us. It didn’t happen. Jeff M had his pink sheet.

After school on Thursday, we went straight to the testing station. We each sat at one of the desks filling in the multiple choice exam making sure to answer the ones we were sure of first, and fill in any we were guessing at later. Jeff P finished first and was having his graded while I filled in my last answer.

Then, I stood in line and waited for one of the test administrators to correct my test. Jeff said nothing to me as he walked over and sat by my father. It took forever for the administrator to carefully go through all my answers and mark the three I had incorrect. With a smile extending from earlobe to earlobe I took my test back to where Jeff was sitting and asked him how he had done. Jeff had a perfect score, no wrong. Normally such news would have taken the wind completely out of my sails, but that day it only irked me a little as we both stood in line to get our pink permits.

New Years Eve at the Pizza Wagon: Step 108

As I noted a couple of days ago one of the best things about working at the Pizza Wagon was how late it closed on Saturday nights. However, one Saturday night stands out among the rest, New Years Eve.

From my earliest memories New Years Eve was always a special time because it was one of the few holidays shared by people of different religions, there was no school the following day, and it symbolized a chance to start anew. I always liked the caricatures of old man time wearing a sash indicating the past year and baby with a sash emblazoned with the new year. More important than the sharing, lack of school or symbolism is the fact this was the one night my parents starting when we were very small let my sister, brother and myself stay up until midnight.

During the previous couple New Years Eves I had worked as a babysitter for friends of my parents while they went out together, and as a coat and boot checker at the synagogue where my parents and friends went to dance the night away. Still, working at The Wagon was different despite the fact I probably made more in tips as a checker than my hourly wage of one dollar and ten cents. Yes, Mr. P had raised my salary by a nickel with a caution not to tell anyone, which didn’t make sense to me since M told me about his nickel raise a month earlier and cousin Jim told me about his nickel raise on Friday night.

Since New Years Eve always attracted a large crowd to the restaurant even when it fell during the week Mr. P decided to have the entire staff work the whole night. It was a decision he would never regret, because as soon as we opened the doors at 4:00 pm until the last patron was escorted out the door at 3:30 am New Years Day every seat was taken, and their was a crowd waiting from the reception counter to the front door, and sometimes out into the street.

Some people came in multiple times through the night. It was not unusual to see a friend come in with his family for dinner, and just hours after clearing away the basket from the garlic bread and plate for his meatball sandwich see him return with friends for pizza. A few even returned around midnight or after to have a soda or coffee.

We were in constant motion. If we weren’t clearing tables, hustling dishes back to the kitchen to be cleaned and returned, or filling sodas for the waitresses, we were slicing cheese, chopping cabbage and onions, or running to the storage room for mushrooms or coffee. Friends kept coming by, making their way through the crowd filling the reception area so they could report on the latest development at one of the many parties. But, we were having our own party as Mr. P decided there would be no breaks but we could grab food on the run as we kept working. Every imaginable song poured out of the juke box, but mostly what I heard that night were the driving sounds of Jim Morrison and the Doors wailing out Light My Fire, and Eric Clapton and Cream cranking out Sunshine of Your Love and Grace Slick flying high with Jefferson Airplane with Somebody to Love. Of course, Mr. P made sure Guy Lombardo had his turn doing Auld Lang Syne at the appointed hour.

The bar crowd was just as friendly as usual, but maybe a little more inebriated. I still have a clear picture of helping one celebrant whose face lay in his own vomit find the door. After closing, a number of us went to an all night diner on Capitol Drive and finished the celebration over breakfast.