Guyana is in South America, not Africa.

This is important to know if you ever meet Eon Chapman, one of my favorite roommates from college. The first time I met him, I learned that he had just arrived from Guyana and asked a question about Africa. Eon stared at me and shook his head.

“Whenever you Americans see a black person, you automatically think they are from Africa.”

Eon is one of the most energetic people I’ve ever met. At 5 a.m. on the first Sunday of the semester, my other roommate Josh and I woke up to lights and loud music. Eon had apparently decided to start the day with our without the rest of the room. Josh nearly killed him.

Eon could not keep all that energy in the room, so two weeks after arriving on campus, he made a decision. He was getting a driver’s license. I kept telling him that I was pretty sure he’d have to be in the country longer than a month to get a driver’s license, but he wouldn’t listen. He walked to the DMV, where he was given a packet stuffed with forms and lists and brochures and told to return when he could figure out what to do with it all.

Eon took the packet back to our room. He was not impressed with American laws. “In Guyana, we don’t have to stop for school busses. We train our children with more understanding. The parents tell the children, ‘Don’t run in the middle of the road.’”

In Guyana, we don’t have to stop for school busses. We train our children with more understanding.

Still, Eon learned the rules – most of them. He spent over an hour the weekend before his test typing a 50-question study sheet. I pointed out that the book already had a perfectly good 75-question study sheet. “I know,” he said. “I took out the ones that didn’t have to do with driving.”

He had deleted questions about drunk driving, motorcycle rules and bicycle safety. When I suggested that he might want to at least look over the other topics, he shook his head. “In my country, for driving test, we just have to know about driving.”

I drove Eon to his test on the condition that he wouldn’t put my car at risk by using for the driving test. “Of course!”

He had a three o’clock appointment and was already running late when my car got stopped by a train. We sat in silence as Eon looked down the infinite line of train cars creeping by. “We don’t have trains in my country,” he said. “Some wise person one day said, ‘no more trains.’ The only thing we stop for is a cow or a sheep or a goat lying in the middle of the road.”

We did finally get to the DMV and much to Eon’s relief, they took him right away. The blonde at the counter rifled through his I-20, proof of education, state ID card and 10 other documents for 15 minutes before giving him a piece of paper that had nothing to do with a driver’s license. “I don’t think she knew what she was doing,” Eon said.

When Eon told her that all he really wanted was a driver license, she rolled her eyes and told him to look into the eye test machine. “Read line five,” she said. Eon mumbled a couple letters nowhere near line five. She told him to read it again. Eon mumbled different letters.

“I wear glasses because my right eye is a little lazy, and it’s hard to focus,” Eon explained.

She told him to read line two. He thought she meant line one. Then she said to read line three left to right. He read it right to left. That went on for close to five minutes. Finally she gave up and told him to just always drive with glasses.

Then she took his picture on the off chance that he’d get a driver’s license that day. “Smile,” she said.

Eon didn’t smile. She didn’t care.

She pointed him toward the bank of computers on the far wall. Eon smiled. In Guyana, the test was all written with no multiple choice. “The answers are all in front of you here,” he said. What could be easier?

He aced the first section of the test dealing with road signs, but struggled with the second section. The first five questions were all about motorcycle and bicycle safety. He tried to skip them. When the computer demanded an answer, he finally just gave the wrong one.

After correctly answering the rest of the questions, Eon reported to the supervising instructor who informed him that he had failed. Eon explained that in Guyana, a person does not need to know about bicycles if he is taking a driving test. This is a driving test, right? Not a bicycle test? The instructor finally just let Eon take the test again. He passed.

This is a driving test, right? Not a bicycle test?

After all of that rigmarole, Eon didn’t even get to take the driving part of his test that day. They kicked him out of the DMV, telling him that it was closing time and he should make another appointment for the driving test. The 15-minute test was to be taken on a track behind the building. To get a feel for the test, Eon walked onto the track. They kicked him off there too.

I had left for work about the time Eon was battling the eye exam, so Josh picked him up in his Lexus. On the way back, Eon asked if he could use Josh’s car for the driving test. Absolutely not. Eon argued and argued until Josh caved.

The next day, Josh pulled up to the DMV, explained for the fifth time how to treat his car and hesitantly handed Eon the keys. After 15 minutes of document signing and picture taking, Eon climbed into the Lexus with a state trooper who refused to smile.

The trooper inspected the car and directed Eon around the track. Eon parallel parked between the two cones at the beginning, backed up nice and straight through two more cones, and even remembered what all the signs meant. When he parked the car, he smiled at the trooper.

The trooper stopped writing on his pad and looked at Eon. “You’re not from this country, are you?” he asked.

“No, why you ask?”

“Do you drive on the left side of the road in your country?”

“Yeah!”

“Over here we drive on the right.”

“Oh.”

“And did you see that stop light in the back corner there?”

“I thought it was directing traffic on the main road.”

“It wasn’t. And you drove through another back there too.”

While Eon was telling me this story that night, I started preparing myself for the inevitable next question.

“Can I use your car for my test next week?”

The next week, we walked back into the DMV together. This time, the blonde at the counter knew exactly what Eon wanted. She directed him to the camera.

“Smile,” she said for the third time.

For the third time, Eon didn’t.

The state trooper supervising the tests that day was the same one at Eon’s first test. He walked into the waiting area. “Who’s next,” he said before stopping short when he saw Eon. “Did you practice?” he asked.

Eon answered that he, in fact, had not practiced. The trooper told him to wait.

“I don’t think he wanted to take me,” Eon said.

The trooper finally did take him, and Eon actually remembered to drive on the right side. He stopped at both traffic lights; even the one that he still suspected was directing traffic outside. When they got back, the trooper did not look up as he spoke. “You didn’t wait two to three seconds after stopping at the stop sign. And when you reversed, you didn’t turn your head. You’re going to have to take the test again.”

“I stop all the way,” Eon explained. “If I wait three seconds every time, I would never move. And I know the back is clear. No one else is on the track. Besides, if I turn around, how can I see the side mirrors?”

The officer did not respond. He just got out of the car. Eon followed.

When Eon walked by me, I asked if he had passed. He just pretended that he didn’t understand English like he does whenever he doesn’t want to talk.

He plopped down on a bench with his head in his hands. After several minutes, the trooper came back and handed him a card. It featured Eon’s picture with the words, “Florida Driver License” across the top.

“I was so happy,’ Eon told me later. “I’m keeping it a surprise. I haven’t told my parents yet.”

He paused and smiled. “I was very proud of myself. Everything in America is not easy.”

LIFE LESSON #51

Everything in America is not easy.