Palm Tree at the DMV

Since we've moved to the midwest I've made an important discovery. It's different here. Some things I like better about Los Angeles and some things I prefer in my little town on the prairie. But it's the differences that really keep me hopping.

In honor of these differences I'm launching a new "write when something strikes me" type post. I call it Palm Tree on the Prairie. I'll play the part of the palm tree. (God knows I have the hair). Because if things were the same everywhere it would be really boring. I now present...

My Midwest trip to renew my driver's license.

First off let me say I can't believe we've been here eight years, but it's true. This was my first license renewal where I had to go into the DMV. The first four year renewal they sent me the application in the mail and after I'd returned it I got an extension. Simple. I dreaded this one though, with memories of Pasadena license renewals dancing in my head. The lines were horrendous, the employees not the nicest, even the parking was a pain in the tail. Eventually they instituted a system where you made appointments ahead of time, but you still had to wait around for what seemed like forever. It could (and often did) take hours to get your license.

I'm sure part of my problem is my past memories of the place, starting with the three -yes three - times it took me to pass my driving test the first time. The first time I barely failed. The second time I took the test in my mom's car at dusk. Not being as familiar with her car, I thought I turned on the headlights, but instead hit the parking lights. The examiner let me get as far as the exit from the DMV parking lot before he pulled me over and failed me. I will never forget what he said next. "Young lady," he drawled, "doncha know you need your lights on to drive in California after dark? There's a law. Has been for forty years."

So I'm scarred. Never mind that in all the time I've been driving I've only had one ticket and no (knock wood) accidents. I drive like the little old lady from Pasadena would if she'd failed her driving test twice. Very carefully.

I dreaded renewing my license so much, as a matter of fact, that I missed the cut-off date on my birthday. When I finally did head out to do it I fully expected to get slapped around a little bit for being late. Practicing what I preach to my kids ("Suck it up and do it") I pulled into the parking lot.

I parked and went in. Then I stood in line, turned in my written test, had my eyes examined, got my picture taken, paid my fees and got my temporary license until my real one came in the mail. No one yelled. They thanked me for coming in. I climbed back in my car and headed home.

Total time elapsed from parking to pulling out of lot - six minutes. And it's the only decent driver's license picture I've ever had.

And the first round goes to...The Midwest. By a landslide.

duck out of water

I was cruising through all my "buddy blogs" the other day and had a thought. It seems to me that quite a lot of us are what I think of as the Duck Out Of Water type, in that we are, one way or another, out of our element. Most are living in a different place than they're used to, surrounded by people, landscape and customs that are new. Canadians in Georgia, Brits in France, Wives In The North, Californians in Kansas...ducks. out. of. water.








Then I started thinking of what an enduring motif this is across the board. Countless movies, books and plays have dealt with the befuddled (or even fuddled) transplant, sometimes sympathetically, but mostly as a source of a good laugh. City folk in the country. Rich people living poor. CEO's working in a hash house. Eddie Murphy trading pork bellies. There are too many examples out there to even contemplate. It's inherently comedic, especially when political correctness gets thrown out the window and the humor gloves really go on.





So do we blog to beat them to the punch? If we can admit to our little foibles and even have a chuckle over them, isn't that better than someone else laughing at us first? Sure, eventually we all start to feel that the new place is home, but isn't there always a part of us that will never lose the allegiance to the place we came from? That part of us that will always feel a little like an expat duck out of water? Or in my case, a palm tree on the prairie?





Just a thought.