DMV- Round 2
Mood:  on fire
December 1, 2004-

After being denied in our last attempt to get our DL, we go to the local power company to get the bill in our name.

We walk in to the office. Find the customer service lady. We state to her that we would like to put the electrical service at yada yada yada in our name. She states "Ok", fill out this form. Pay a 300 dollar deposit, and here you go. Ta-da. A utility bill in our name.

Now please tell me why in the world, if anyone can get this done within 3 minutes, does the the DMV NEED this document? Why wasn't the one from my previous state with the new address on it just as good? IMHO, the one from Cali was better. It needed to arrive via USPS at the location where I stated I resided, which is much more legit than a reciept from the local power company just because I said I lived there. Oh well, off to the DMV now to get the license.

We do the song and dance again. Obligatory 15 minutes of thumb twiddling. Approach the counter. We need our licenses...

check

check

check

check

"Utility bill?"

CHECK!

"Ok." "step over this way for your picture."

CLICK.

"Ok, here is your driver's license for the State of SC."

Right then and there, we walked out with our final copy DL. In Cali, it would have taken 6-8 weeks to get it in the mail. Kinda cool.

Whew, we are finally done with the DL. Ok, now we want to get our license plates... oh, don't get me started.

Militant DMV
Mood:  irritated
Nov. 16 2004-
Well, we tried to get our cars registered and get our SC drivers licenses today. What a joke. We drive the 15 minutes off island to the DMV office. We are already forwarned that it can be time consuming and that we will need an utility bill, our Social Security cards, notarized birth certificates, and current drivers license. Well, I thought that our PG&E bill with our new address on it would be just fine. It is a utility bill after all.

After waiting the obligatory 15 minutes, our number is called and we approach the counter. The lady listens to our story about how we just arrived, and need to get licenses. She reviews the information on the forms that we pre-filled out, and requests the afore mentioned documents. So far so good.

"Birth Certificate?"

"Check."

"Current drivers license? "

"Check."

"Social Security card? "

"Check." (There was slight surprise from the counter girl that we had these. Apparently this is main cause of the multiple trips that everyone here gets caught up on. I think this is how they drive the volume of traffic in the office to justify the extra staff at the DMV)

"Utility bill. "

"Check."



"Where is this bill from?"

"PG&E in California...why?"

"Oh, that won't do. You need to have a SC utility bill. A phone bill, a mortgage bill, an electric bill from a SC utility company."

"Well, we don't have any of those things yet..."

"Well, you will need to come back when you do."

We slink off, defeated by the tyrannical red tape.

Posted by blue58356 at 12:01 AM EST

Updated: Friday, 21 January 2005 9:27 PM EST

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Leaving on a jet plane...
Mood:  sad
Nov. 4 2004-
Well, it is real and it hits me as we scoop up Jeffrey and get ready to board the plane. A mix of emotions rushes through me. A bit of excitement for what the future holds. A lot of sadness for leaving the place where I have lived and loved for the past 20 years. Anxiety about an 8 hour plane ride with an infant, and how my wife is going to adjust to moving 3000 miles away from her mother and the close knit circle of friends that she has spent every birthday with since Junior High School.

As we board the plane and settle in, the stewardesses are nice and helpful with the baby, but you can definitely feel the tension in other passengers as they wonder what is in store for them during the next 6.5 hours, as they sit in a cramped tubular structure, with recirculated air, annoying rumbles from the engines, and a lack of any real food substances, and fight for space in the overhead compartments. The parents smile at us and wave at the baby, the business professionals and "professional vacationers" (retired business professionals) settle in and eye the baby with slight annoyance. You can see them thinking... "I hope that kid does not cry the whole trip". Which makes the mood much more stressful for the parents who are hoping to curb the same thing.

At the first stop in our journey to the South-East, Atlanta, our plane arrives on-time, but the gate is still occupied by another plane, so we have to wait on the tarmac for the gate to clear. We are assured that it will be momentarily. Which is airport speak for a specified period of time that has no real meaning. Momentarily means anywhere from the next 5 minutes, to the next 5 hours. Finally, after about 15 minutes, the gate opens and we are allowed to taxi in to deplane. Well, this delay of course cuts deeply into the "layover" time that we have to get from one terminal to the other.

Hiking through the airport with 2 adults and an infant, with all the necessary elements of travel, I feel like a Sherpa. I have a diaper bag strapped to my chest, my wife's carry-on strapped to my back, the car seat on one shoulder, my carry-on hanging precariously on the other shoulder. All the while trying to push a stroller. My wife has the baby in her arms so that she can navigate the traveler traffic as people rush from gate to gate trying to make tight connections. As we stand there and read the departure boards to figure out where our next plane is located, we realize that we have to go a whole different terminal than the one we arrived at. Why do airlines insist on doing this? We notice that we have to take a shuttle from one side of the airport to the other to be able to catch our flight. Remember that we have already burned 15 minutes of our 55 minute layover due to waiting for the gate to open, and then another 5 minutes just getting off the plane. We now have 35 minutes to get to the next gate. Also, planes start to board 30 minutes in advance...so good luck. To add insult to injury, we see that in order to catch the shuttle, we have to go down a flight of stairs. A very narrow flight of stairs by the way. I send my wife down first as I fight with the stroller to collapse it, and negotiate the stairs down. I feel more like a sherpa than ever, as we descend Mt. Atlanta International, checking footing, banging into the walls, avoiding being crushed by the other pasengers who are trying to pass me on the way down. I finally make it to the doorway to join my wife, who is holding the bus for me. I struggle to get on the bus, with bags in tow, as I turn this way and that to get through the narrow doorway. I am breathing heavy from the exertion and added weight that I am carrying. I swear the bus driver had a pool going to see which one could eject a passenger off the bus. As I am standing there, because there are no seats left and I am not about to try to get the bags dislodged from my person, holding on for dear life, the driver is doing the slalom course through the underbelly of the airport. I could almost see the grin on his face in the mirror as he glanced back to see me bounce from one wall to the other.

As the bus screeches to a halt at the next gate, and I scrape myself up from the floor at the unexpected direction of travel. We have to repeat all the struggles of the previous descent in reverse. As I struggle to climb Mt. OhmygodIwillnevermakeit, I instruct my wife to hurry on, and hold the plane for me. I finally make it to the top of the stairs, and pause to catch my breath. I unfold the stroller and put as many bags as I think the thing can support in it. I take about 5 steps and POW, the front wheel falls off the stroller, courtesy of the delicate baggage handing at the airline. I guess "gatecheck" really means "Thanks, we will toss your valuable piece of luggage into the hold of the plane where everyone else's pieces of luggage can crush it beyond recognition". I gather up the spilled bags from the floor, and the wheel that has rolled 5 feet away, and resume my relegated role in this world as sherpa. I then proceed to rush to the gate to join my "boarding in progress" flight. We are the last to board, which is great fun. Again, where does all the overhead space go? We settle in with the infant, again amidst concerned glances, and brace for the last leg our journey.

Lucky for us, our child is an angel. After each leg of the trip, many of the travelers with us comment on how good the baby was. Many of the cranky-old business types, even are astounded, and comment that they hadn't even realized there was a child so near them on the flight. Of course we beam with pride and gaze at our perfect son with adoration, and slight amazment too. Naturally we take full credit for his behavior, although we know full well it is just his nature to "chill" and enjoy being entertained by his parents.

Well, we have arrived, and get to load all the luggage into the car and prepare for the 45 minute drive to our final destination, Hilton Head Island, SC.