By Franziska Wallace

After six long hours standing — or rather, sleeping — at the Pearl City DMV, groggily meeting the drivers' tester and taking the worst picture of my life, I received what most teenagers consider their pass to freedom.

I recently became a licensed driver in Hawai'i.

Before I go into how great it is to now drive alone, with no parents to tell you to turn "that crap you call music" off, let me get into exactly how stressful it actually is to get the license itself.

For reference, I tried three times to get my license. I didn't fail three times, just once.

But that's beside the point.

At my first attempt to achieve "freedom," I punctually showed up at the DMV at 4 in the morning, only to forget to turn my wheels to the curb during roadside parking and fail my license test. Not only did I fail, I also had to sit at the station listening to people talk about their sixth or seventh attempt at getting their license. The whole entire morning, and they were in their 30s.

After I got to school — late because I was bawling for 30 minutes in the car on my way — I totally zonked out in both English and history. I don't even remember going to third period because I was so tired. Technically, I was "jet lagging" the rest of the week.

All because of one miserable Monday morning.

Not to mention my dad, who had to get up at 4 as well to drive me down to the DMV. He told me it was OK and we'd try again in a week, But I know that secretly, deep down inside, he was thinking something along the lines of "I have an idiot daughter who can't even pass a simple road test. Back in my day ... "

News flash, Daddy dearest! It's not back in your day!

Yes. I'm still a bit bitter. Stupid wheels ... and I wasn't even on a hill!

I have to give my dad lots of credit, though: He did take me down to the DMV once again the following week. This time, we figured we could sleep an hour longer and arrive at 5 a.m. It was a good thought — until we pulled into the station only to find 30 people already standing in a line extending through the doors and into the parking lot.

So once again, after waiting for what seemed to be an eternity, I was right at the window, next to get my ticket, when one of the testers came out and said that all the spots had been taken for the day.

Wonderful, I thought.

And once more, I fell asleep in my classes that morning.

My last and final attempt at getting that darn license came two days later.

This time, my dad and I decided to beat the crowd. Waking up at 3:30 a.m., I sleepily made my way to the car. Did I mention I didn't get any sleep that night either because I was so nervous that I would once again fail my test?

When we arrived down at the station, there were already 10 people in front of me. They had camped out there the whole night. I was thinking to myself, "These people are crazy!" I mean, they camped out in front of the DMV. Camped! Reclining chairs, coolers, everything.

This time, I was smart. I brought my handy-dandy CD player. No more interesting conversations. At 7:45 a.m., the windows to the station opened, and I rushed to get my place in line. After receiving my ticket, I gave my poor dad an earful about how I thought there was a conspiracy against me, and that all the road testers were out to fail me. Finally, after an extra hour of waiting, a road tester approached me and we departed for the dreaded testing site.

The scariest thing is the road tester didn't say a word to me. I thought I failed for sure when he handed me the slip of paper stating that I had passed. I was so excited I almost tore the paper in two when I hastily grabbed it from him for fear that he would try to take it back.

I guarded that paper with my life until we went into the station to take my picture.

That stupid picture.

Let's put it this way, I don't proudly flash my license to everyone for fear of being laughed out of school. I have bags under my eyes, my hair is frizzy and messy from sleeping on a cold, hard bench, and it looks as if it took every ounce of energy I had left to pull my lips apart and flash that dorky grin.

I'm so glad I finally have my license. Not because I can drive everywhere without parental supervision or that I can listen to anything I want to on the radio, but for the fact that the anxiety is over.

It feels as if a weight has been lifted and that my life can get back to normal.

Franziska Wallace is a senior at Moanalua High School. If you're a teen and would like to speak out about issues, trends, pressures and perceptions teens deal with, submit an article or suggest a topic to Island Life assistant editor Dave Dondoneau at ddondoneau@honoluluadvertiser.com.