Needless to say, I was pumped.
It should also be noted that this was my third attempt at the task.
The DMV is known as a location from hell no matter where you are in the country. In Madison, Wisconsin, where I grew up (and where all my other DMV life experience had taken place thus far), people lamented about the DMV as they would anywhere else: Lines, waiting, paper work, bureaucracy. But I don't think you really know the possible DMV hell until you've visited a Los Angeles location. You can't. And if you think about it, it makes sense--this city is run by cars. This city would probably cease to function without them (as much as I wish it weren't true). There must be thousands of people who need DMV related assistance a day. And while there are multiple DMV locations in and around this fair city of angels, it just couldn't possibly be enough.
They key to a successful DMV visit in LA, I'd been told, was to make an appointment. If not, you'd be stuck in the line that stretched out the door, around the corner, and down the block by 8 a.m every day--just to get a number to wait some more. Appointments, though, are not a same day thing. When booking an appointment, you're lucky to find one available that week.
Awesome, right?
Ok, so, let's stay focused. This was my third attempt because of one other car-related hell this city is known for: Parking. I had, as instructed, made appointments two other times, only to drive around South Central looking for parking until well after my assigned appointment time. Fail. Twice.
The Awesome Gods were with me on Day Two of Awesome, however. I found parking right away. And right in the DMV parking lot. I was so excited, I took a picture:
Alright, now to explain why this DMV visit was necessary. I've lived in Los Angeles (or at least not in Wisconsin--I did have a brief stint in Oregon for a year or so. And that year in Amman, Jordan too, I suppose.) for eight years now. Eight. Years. Throughout this whole time, my car has always kept its Wisconsin plates (a loophole I managed because the car, until today, had been registered in my Wisconsin-dwelling father's name), I had always had a Wisconsin I.D. (assumed as fake at nearly every bar I have visited in this city), and I have voted absentee as a Wisconsin voter in every election (my blue vote means so much more there than it does here in Cali, especially given the dire political situation in that state these days...but I digress).
The plunge into California residency has been an intimidating one for me to take, partially because it seems like a commitment akin to marriage, partially because I really do love my prairie-based home and ties to such a real place like Wisconsin, and partially because I just never really have embraced that whole "settling down" thing. Committing to another state kind of feels like a Game Over in my mind. It feels like all those endless possibilities might, in fact, have an end.
Also, my car insurance is going to be a nightmare now.
But this is all part of growing up, of this Awesome (sometimes) stage of life known as the twenty-somethings where I am learning to take parts of adult life by the balls and hold on tight...more or less.
So, three hours, three hundred dollars, two (yes, TWO) convenient parking spots, one smog test, one written exam, and one incredibly Awesome DMV worker later, I am now the proud owner of California plates, a California ID, and California voting rights. And, I suppose, one step deeper into adulthood. Check it:
And now my parents won't get all my parking tickets (and there are a lot) delivered to them in the mail. It's a win-win situation.
I will admit, though, when they punched that hole through my Wisconsin ID, the ID I've had since that very first week of driving when I accidentally drove the old Honda Civic into a tree in the neighbor's yard (remember that, family and friends??), my heart broke a little.
Upon texting my dad afterward he responded, "You're a Cali girl now!"
"I guess so..." I wrote back. "But I still have a heart full of prairie flowers and dairy cows."
Some things never change.
In other Awesome news of the day:
My dad played a baseball game at Miller Park Stadium in Milwaukee, uniform and all!! Wish I could have been there! That is Awesome at its best.
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