We had a pretty quiet night at work. Around 3AM a nice young girl named Laura stopped in. She works at one of our branches in Ohio, but was visiting her sister for a few days and wanted to make a few things. She printed a couple posters for her sister and wanted to place an order for a large oversized color poster for her parents' 27th anniversary.

Normally we don't do them while you wait, but since she was a fellow employee, my boss decided just to go ahead and print it. We didn't have any other jobs to work on anyway. It turned into a fiasco pretty quickly though, since the file wouldn't send to the printer for some reason. 3 hours and 4 computers later, we finally had a decent print. During which time, we all gave our stories about the worst customers. Suprisingly enough, people in Ohio are apparently just as crazy as Californians.

I told Laura I would visit her store when I fly home in a few weeks. I don't know if I'll actually be able to, but it's a nice thought. It was pleasant to have extra company for a few very dead hours.

After I left this morning, I decided it was finally time to go down to the DMV and get my driver's license. So I left work around 6:30, drove home to pick up my checkbook and change into some jeans, then drove to the Office in Burbank. I found it by accident a few weeks ago, while looking for a car wash. The other thing I haven't done since I got here.

The first time I saw it, there was a line out the door and around the corner. My strategy became an early attack. If the office opens at 8AM, I could definitely get there by 7 and beat the rush. Wishful thinking. I got there at 7 on the dot and there was already a line with 10 people.

It didn't seem that bad though. I've been to the Michigan DMV and sat for 3 hours before, just waiting to talk to someone. How long could 10 people possibly take? I'd printed the driver's manual at work, and sat against the wall to study for the test. All the rules seemed pretty much the same as Michigan - sans painted curbs. We don't have those. The rest seemed standard.

Finally, about 15 minutes to open, a guy with a pulley cart came outside and started asking people why they were there. He handed out forms from person to person, until another employee joined up. Finally, a woman asked me what I needed.

"How can we help you today?" she asked.
"Hi. I need to get my license," I said, smiling as much as possible.
Without even a grin - "First time in California?"
"Yes. First time."

She stared at me for a second with her mouth open and asked if I had a passport or a birth certificate. I'd read nowhere on the website or in the manual that either was necessary, so I asked if my old driver's license was ok, and reached for my wallet. She just looked away for a second, mouth still hanging open, completely devoid of any brightness and repeated "Birth certificate or passport."

I suddenly realized the end of my long night was the beginning of her longer day. She also didn't seem to want to spend much more time discussing the subject, so she handed me a form and turned to the next person. The top read: "Driver License OR Identification Card Application."

I saw a passport application recently, and I remember it being less detailed than the 8 sections of text in front of my eyes. I suddenly felt like I was applying for citizenship to a foreign country. I guess it was silly to assume all I would need was an out of state license. Maybe they have problems here with immigration.

Getting a birth certificate will be fun, considering documents mailed to my address don't make it half the time. I have a feeling the landlord might have a deal worked out with the postman. I hate not being on the lease here. I have a worse feeling that a photocopy of my birth certificate won't suffice... sigh

Defeated - against what seemed like ideal planning, I walked back to my car and drove past the entire line of people waiting - feeling slightly humiliated. I'd stood at the corner for an hour, so I'm sure a couple of them felt my dissapointment. I'm sure more than one person was there for the second time. Like the guy with a folding golf chair and cappucino or the teen with a CD player and science homework.

I have a feeling my next visit will be anything but speedy.