Believe me, I would love nothing more than to have a driver’s license. I hate relying on my wife to bring me to Sunglass Hut for my weekly Oakleys tune-up. But time after time, my obsessive love for Busch Gardens sabotages my chances of getting one. It’s like I’m stuck in the friend zone, but instead of being mad at women for not wanting to sleep with me, I am mad at the government for deeming me unfit to operate a four thousand pound machine at high speeds (I also believe in the friend zone after getting red pilled by some very convincing Facebook posts my former pediatrician wrote). Here are four devastating times I ruined my chances of passing my driving test by trying to go to Busch Gardens.

The Time The Examiner and I Realized We Shared the Same Birthday

This was such a crazy coincidence, I thought it must be a sign. So I ignored the test course and merged onto I-95. My examiner started yelling at me, and I realized that I had misread the situation. I tried giving him seventeen dollars and a Starbucks gift card (that I was pretty sure had a few bucks left on it) in exchange for him forgetting this hiccup, but no dice. In trying to find something else to bribe him with, a graphite sketch I made depicting myself driving a car while holding my new license fell out of my sun visor. This wouldn’t have been that embarrassing were the sketch not as erotic in nature as it was (I do not wish to elaborate further).

The Time My Examiner Said He Had Never Been to Busch Gardens and I Raised My Eyebrows and Said, “Never?”

After failing my previous exam for attempting to drive 350 miles to Busch Gardens when I wasn’t even supposed to leave the neighborhood, I was determined not to make the same mistake. But once my examiner mentioned that he had never been to Busch Gardens in response to me stating that it’s my favorite place in the world, I was unable to focus. I started sweating and just kept saying things like, “You’ve NEVER been? Are you sure? Seriously?” He kept shaking his head no. By the time he asked me to do a K-turn, I had had it. “I hope K stands for ‘Killer good time,’ as in what we’re about to have,” I said before executing a perfect K-turn (the highway was in the other direction and I had to turn around anyway). But like I said to the police who arrested me at a rest stop in Maryland, what’s the bigger crime: abducting a federal worker or letting someone go their entire life without riding Apollo’s Chariot, one of the Garden’s 8 coasters?

The Time I Tried to Recreate The Roller Coaster Experience with My Car So My Examiner Could Decide If She’d Enjoy the Rides at Busch Gardens

By this point, I realized my big mistake was not asking my examiners if they wanted to go to Busch Gardens before I started driving there. So the first thing I said to my examiner when she got in my car was, “Want to go to Busch Gardens?” It caught her a bit off-guard and she seemed confused, so I started driving the car as if it were a roller coaster to help her decide whether or not she wanted more high-speed adrenaline at BG. I went 100 mph, took a lot of sharp turns, and I even paid a teenager to sit in the back seat so he could half-heartedly check my examiner’s seatbelt before we took off. In true coaster fashion, the whole thing was done in two minutes, so I don’t get what she was so upset about. Unfortunately, she was no more interested in purchasing the 30 dollar souvenir photo I had the teenager in the back take during the ride than she was in giving me a passing score on the exam.

The Time That My Examiner Agreed to Go to Busch Gardens with Me But When We Got There, She Refused to Pay for Parking And I Got So Mad That I Drove Us Home

As soon as my examiner got in my vehicle, I laid my cards on the table. “I have a sickness that forces me to drive to Busch Gardens Williamsburg when I get behind the wheel. I cannot resist the temptation. Will this be a problem?” She looked at me and said, “You bring us to the greatest amusement park on Earth, and I will pass you on this exam.” Six and a half hours later, we pulled up to the Busch Gardens parking lot. I asked her to pay for parking (we used my car and I was the one who paid for gas) but she refused, saying that passing me on the exam was compensation enough. We got into an argument that ultimately ended with me bringing us back to Pennsylvania and her failing me. I can only assume that fate does not want me to have a driver’s license.

See new Points in Case posts via Twitter or Facebook.

Take comedy writing classes at The Second City - 10% off with code PIC.