B3 Day Five – GUEST BLOG #6 – Misty Evans

I recently moved two twelve-year-old boys, one husband and my hundred-and-twenty-five pound dog across five states in three days. A challenge? Absolutely.

There were moans and groans and public rest areas that wouldn't allow dogs. And because of said dog, we had to spend a few nights in hotels that were more pet-friendly than people-friendly. I felt like I needed a biohazard suit to enter the bathrooms. There was entirely too much fast food and awful dog breath in the car the entire trip.

But we made it and began the job of unpacking in our new home, now in sunny SW Florida. The first morning after we arrived, the well lost its prime. No showers, no flushing toilets, no drinking water. Luckily, hubby found a local guy with the proper tools and experience to get us back up and running in a few hours. Much toilet flushing ensued.

Most of our new experiences so far have been good ones. The people here are fantastic and of course, the beach is to die for.A few days ago, though, hubby and I went to get our Florida drivers licenses. We had birth certificates, social security cards, proof of residence and our valid Illinois licenses that stated we were both safe drivers. Unfortunately, however, I didn't bring our marriage license. Never occurred to me I would need to prove I'm married, but from what the clerk told me, Homeland Security changed the rules and regulations in 2005, and the government now tracks women who take their husband's name via their driver's license.

Hubby and I married twenty-one years ago. The pastor at the church filled out a certificate from the county clerk, had our best man and maid of honor witness it, and away we went. However, I learned on my second trip to the local Florida driver's license station, that the form wasn't valid. The clerk printed off contact information for me about getting a certified marriage license from the state of Illinois. Only thing was, on the sheet she printed off, it clearly stated that the state would not give out certified copies. So I had to go to the county clerk's office where we were married. On their website, it states you must come to the clerk's office, fill out a form and show a picture ID. Hard for me to do since I was 1400 miles away.

So I couldn't legally prove I was married, and therefore couldn't get a Florida driver's license. Which meant, I couldn't open a bank account or register my car or volunteer at my kids' new school or a dozen other things that require proof of residency and legal status. Talk about a pain in the backside!

I was beyond pissed. How is it that a woman can't get a driver's license because she changed her name when she got married? What did that have to do with my ability to operate a car? Nothing. But Big Brother was bullying me anyway.

I'm no stranger to Homeland Security's quirks. For my CIA thrillers, I've researched and read a lot over the past few years about HS in order to be as accurate as possible. When I wrote the third Super Agent book, I even interviewed one of their employees. In theory, their goals are mostly admirable and necessary in these unnerving times. In reality, too many rules and regulations don't keep us safe. They only serve to harass normal, everyday citizens like me.

Luckily, the county clerk in Illinois worked everything out over the phone, and to Connie and her assistant, Karen, I'm eternally grateful. A few days after I called them with my tale of woe, I had a certified marriage license. Today I got my Florida driver's license.  Tomorrow, I'm sending a letter to President Obama. Not that it will do any good, but it will make me feel better.

There's certainly a need for many of the rules and regulations Homeland Security employs. But harassing a natural-born citizen who's never even had a speeding ticket and chose to take her husband's name when she married him twenty-one years ago is taking things too far. And no one should mess with a woman who's been in a car for three days straight, moving every possession she has, with kids and a dog that has chronic halitosis.

Especially when that woman writes CIA thrillers with characters from Homeland Security in them. To paraphrase my favorite bumper sticker: Be careful HS or you'll end up in my next novel – or maybe locked in an SUV with my dog for three days.

Misty Evans is the author of OPERATION SHEBA and the award-winning Super Agent Series. She likes her coffee black, her conspiracy stories juicy, and her wicked characters dressed in couture. To learn more about Misty and her books, visit www.readMistyEvans.com or follow her on www.twitter.com/readmistyevans .