I sat in the car anxiously, thinking that maybe we were not going to get there on time. I started recalling all the bad scenarios that could happen while we were there; we must have forgotten something or it would never be our turn. There came a lot of responsibility when trying to get a driver’s permit. Once we got to the Texas Department of Public Safety, it seemed to be quite empty but there’s more to it than what meets the eye. We entered the small blue building hurriedly. The building was even smaller inside; I saw the small cubicles lined up in rows. The workers were patiently sitting in their chairs, waiting for the next customer. We were handed some mandatory papers, “Please fill these out”, said the women sitting in the small office at the entrance of the building. The problem wasn’t filling the papers out, it was trying to find a seat in this very small waiting area only made to hold a small amount of people. Almost every chair was taken, we were lucky enough to find three empty chairs in the back row. As the day continued, the DPS started filling with people. Wow, I had never actually realized how many people were trying to get their driver’s license or permit on the same day. We sat for a few hours and then our number was called, “Thank gosh, finally!”, I yelled excitedly. We all stood up in unison and walked over to the small cubicle. My sister and I had to get separate cubicles. As my mom headed with my sister first, I headed the opposite way and sat down in the cushion chair in front of what seemed like a very prestigious lady. “Hi, how are you?”, I asked the lady; I was trying to be as kind as possible because I wanted to make a good impression. The lady answered kindly, “Good but very busy here, as always.” She then proceeded to ask for the usual paperwork and asked a few questions. This was not as bad a I had previously thought it would be, it was very straightforward and easy but very time consuming. Everything was going great for the last step the lady asked if she could see my mother’s identification card. I called my mom over and asked her for it. I handed the lady her mothers id and smiled excitedly because I was so close to getting my drivers permit. The lady looked at the identification card and her face dropped, “I am sorry ma’am but do you happen to have another form of identification?” I stared at her confusedly, and my mom answered, “No I am sorry, that is all that I have. They said that they accepted this id.” My face dropped as I sat in the cushion chair, it was not fair I thought. It’s an identification, that’s all they need. The only reason they wouldn’t accept it was because it said ‘Consulado de Mexico’ on it. I felt anger and frustration swallow me. I looked at the lady and she could tell that I was upset. “Let me go double check,” said the lady. She stood up and walked a small distance before getting to another lady. They talked for about 30 seconds before they both came over. The other lady that came over said, “Of course, this identification can be used. I am sorry for the confusion ma’am.” I was relieved and thought nothing about the situation but deep down I was scared. I was enraged with the exclusion that I felt from the words that had come out of the lady’s mouth. I felt like we didn’t belong.