Lock Your Windows Part 2: Triumph

Trafton B.

March 10, 2010 - 8:43 PM

Thanks for tuning into the blog again. For those of you that were on the edge of your seat from last week's tragic tale of my stolen bag, we'll be concluding the two part series with a much lighter, more heroic tale. And for those of you that haven't read that last blog, I recommend backtracking so you too can receive the full experience. Now, without further adieu, I hope you enjoy.

Monday morning, I went through my normal routine as I left for class. Walked outside, locked the door and patted the sides of my pockets to check if I had all the necessities - phone, wallet, Moleskine planner and keys. Everything was fine and dandy until I made it to the back right pocket, where instead of hitting my recycled rubber wallet I only found a butt cheek. I immediately knew where I'd left it. I looked up the gray sky, let out a disconsolate sign and muttered, "Aww....son of a gun." I'd left my wallet in my bag, and god only knows where that thing is right now.

So, I whipped out my phone to let my parents know on the walk to school. My dad worked on cancelling my credit cards, while I started figuring out the location of the closest Eugene DMV. I've lost wallets before, which I'm not too proud to admit, but I at least knew what I was up again. Everything in my wallet, and most wallets for that matter, is valuable but not irreplaceable. I knew I was going to have to jump through several government-regulated hoops to replace everything.

My first thought was that I needed my passport - the only remaining document other than my birth certificate that would prove that I am in fact who I say I am. And therein lies the first problem, and get ready because I had lots. Unbeknownst to me, my passport expired January 10, 2010. The timing could not be any worse.

I had it sent up to Eugene anyways, hoping that I would be able to renew it or receive a temporary booklet, or at the very least someone might have pity on me at the DMV.

Getting the passport itself almost foiled the entire operation because my father sent it via FedEx "Adult Signature Required" shipping. He was under the impression that "adult" meant 18 years old. Apparently FedEx disagrees with the rest of the United States because they view 21 years as the age of a legal adult. I brought one of my 21-year old roommates, Cam, just in case, but the attendant didn't seem to care. I passed with my Oregon Student ID card and a pretty smile. I guess it pays to pick up packages at the end of the workday.

That night, I went to bed early. I had a big day ahead of my.

Friday morning I emailed my boss at Facility Services, told her I needed to take care of some personal matters and I needed the day off. She already knew about the stolen bag story, so she knew exactly what I meant. Then, at approximately 9AM I hopped on my bicycle and began one of the longest journeys in recent memory.

First stop, the downtown Eugene post office for passport renewal.

I took a number, eighteen, looked up at the digital counter to see they were "Now Serving #10" and knew I needed to get comfy, which (by the way) is impossible at any post office I've noticed. There will inevitably be some obnoxiously talkative person, a crying baby or uncomfortable wooden benches. Lucky me, I had all of those in the same trip. I had to choose between sitting at an uncomfortable seat next to a war veteran with stories and an uncomfortable seat next to a mother and her crying baby. I chose the war vet - lesser of two evils.

Eventually, my number was called and I talked to a very pleasant lady who helped me through the whole process. I really couldn't tell you the last time I went to the post office and had all of my questions answered, but that wasn't the case today. I guess, this time, it paid to be there at the beginning of the workday.

The only problem was that I would've needed to give up my passport right then and there, to apply for a new one. I decided I would hold onto it for the moment, until after the DMV at least, but I did find out that any passport is still a valid form of identification until five years after its expiration date. It won't get you out of the country, but it'll get you into the DMV. Good news for me.

Next stop, down West 11th to the Department of Motor Vehicles.

Thankfully, I didn't have to ride my frail road bike down W. 11th Street, seeing as it's one of the few non-bicycle friendly roads in Eugene. The Fern Ridge bike path, on the other hand, is spectacular! I passed by an elementary school while the kids were playing at recess. The sun was glistening off the Millrace, kind of. It could have been worse.

Anyway, I made it to the DMV without trouble. I asked a few questions, found out what documents I needed but, again, ran into another speed bump. I needed a recent bank statement for proof of address, a passport for proof of citizenship (check), and a social security card. Now, if this were a cartoon, I would a heard a car screeeeeech sound clip in the background.. My social security card was also lost with my wallet.

I know, I know. The card says "DON'T KEEP THIS IN YOUR WALLET." I feel like an idiot, I assure you. But I'd accounted for this happening. I wrote down the address to the Eugene social security administration office. I was just hoping I didn't have to go there. If you want to, take a look on this MAP. It's only four miles, but I knew I'd have at least one more back to the DMV. My day was far from over.

As I predicted, the miles added up quickly. I made a side trip home to eat a quick lunch, grab those bank statements for the DMV and refill my tires at the Blue Heron Bicycle shop near campus. Then, I proceeded to ride past Autzen Stadium to Coburg Road.

Social Security was pretty straightforward. I was a little startled by the police officer asking if I was carrying any weapons at the door, but the conversation with the attendant was much more conventional. They printed out temporary social security information, as well a few numbers I should call about identity theft - fairly important - and again I headed back to the DMV.

I went straight to the front of the line - you can do that if you've already been there once that day, in case you didn't know - handed the gentleman all my documents, and crossed my fingers.

Of course, though, it's never that easy with the DMV. I wasn't made aware of the fact that the bank statements needed to be within the past 60 days. BECAUSE THEY DIDN'T TELL ME THAT! I also didn't have any such recent letters, because I switched to paperless banking. Shame on me for being eco-friendly, right?

I resorted to plan B, which unfortunately entailed me riding back into campus area to ask, or plead rather, for a copy of my rental agreement from my landlord. And after thirty minutes of phone calls and a few more polite smiles to the landlord's sister and son, I was good to go, signed agreement in hand.

Back to the DMV, one last time.

At this point my legs were burning form riding all day long, the school children crowded the Fern Ridge path as they were being let out of school, and the Millrace was back to its regular, grimy state. I took solace in knowing that this would be my last trip (aside from the return) down this path. Not by choice, that is, but rather I knew the DMV was closing within the hour. I was running out of time.
Once more, I trudged to the front of the line to meet my third clerk of the day. She almost didn't accept the lease agreement until I pointed out that April 2009 was in fact within the past 12 months (the requirement for such a document). This was the first glimpse at the finish line I'd seen that day and it refreshed my weary soul.

Documents cleared and payments made, only one thing stood between myself and being street legal once again. The Oregon driver's written examination.

I figured it would be a little tough because my roommate had recently failed it. I won't tell you which roommate, so as not to tarnish their integrity. Also, there is the little fact that being from California I'd never even seen the Oregon Driver's manual in my life. I'd come too far to turn back now though, so I jumped in headfirst.

Twenty minutes later, I squeaked by with an 80%. Only two questions above the bare minimum, but hey, I passed. It's over.

I walked out of the DMV at precisely 4:32PM, and let loose a humungous sigh of relief. Twenty-five miles of riding and nine and half hours later, my mission ended in success.

All I walked away with that day was a 1x3-inch piece of paper with my picture and signature on it, but that was the most triumphant feeling I've had in a long time.