Pleasant surprise…
So, I moved to DC about eight months ago. For the most part, it was a quick transition, but there’s one lingering thing that’s been hanging over my head since moving; getting a DC drivers’ license and registering my car in the District. It’s not a sentimental thing; yes, I kept my Maryland affiliation through college and grad school, but that was more a matter of convenience than anything else.
Nope, it was a sheer, stomach-clenching dread of dealing with the DC MVA that kept me from fulfilling my bureaucratic obligations. Virtually every DC resident with whom I’ve spoken has offered horror stories of cranky clerks, regulatory catch-22’s and the purgatorial feeling of waiting hours for service, and it didn’t help that when Jenny went to get her DC license a mere week after moving here, she had an experience that was positively Kafka-esque (suffice it to say that she wound up having to find someone to notarize her signature on a copy of our lease – note that I didn’t say a notarized copy of our lease, but rather a notarization for her signature on the back of a photocopy of our already-signed lease!). From the look of the website, registering my car in DC looked like a potential nightmare.
However, I’m damned sick of getting parking tickets for parking in the neighborhood on the days that I work from home, and a few months ago I got a creepy note on my windshield that informed me that the DC Police had observed my car parked overnight in my neighborhood twice in the past 180 days, and that I was thus warned of possible (and unspecified) penalties.So, today I gathered together every scrap of documentation I could find relating to my identity, my place of residence, and my car, and taking a deep breath, dove in headfirst.
Within two hours, I was done.
That’s right, in less than two hours, I was able to drive to the vehicle inspection site in Southwest, get a clean bill of health for my car, drive up to the Brentwood MVA office, wait in the “Information” line, show the clerk a folder full of documents, get the appropriate forms, have my number called before I’d even finished filling out my application for a license (!), get a new license, register my car and get new plates, drive home and swap my shiny new new DC “Taxation Without Representation“plates for the old MD ones.
I’m utterly flabbergasted. DC’s supposed to have the worst bureaucracy in the country, even the world, right? The civil servants are supposed to be cranky, mean-spirited people who delight in making their poor petitioners jump through hoops (repeatedly, if possible). This was supposed to take me several days, involve repeated trips to the same MVA office, and just plain suck. Instead, everyone I interacted with, from the guy at the inspection station who called me “chief” to the unbelievably friendly woman behind the counter at the Brentwood office, this was actually a pleasant process.
I’m still in shock.