Registering your vehicle. Insuring your car. Getting a new Driver's License. Not to mention the newly-wifed phenomenon of changing your name on ALL official documents. These are the issues that hang over our heads.

Today, we go to the Department of Motor Vehicles. Well, we thought we were going there. But being that Massachusetts doesn't seem to have a website that tells you where the nearest DMV is AND what you need to bring in order to accomplish the aforementioned duties, we stumble across another "unofficial" website that gives all the necessary document information and a peculiar DMV address. Southie. It said the DMV was in Southie. Not thinking to crosscheck this information with the "official" site, we googlemap it and leave optimistically from our Brighton apartment.

Only one wrong turn later, we arrive at the prescribed location to find an H&R Block and a gentleman saying the real DMV is at 630 Washington Street downtown. I won't go into the fact that there shouldn't BE two 630 Washington Streets in the same city. So we think, "We got a tour of Southie," and drive on an adventure through unknown streets with no map and find our way to Chinatown. Drive around for 10-15 minutes to find a parking space and settle on a $10-15 parking lot.

We walk into the real Department of Motor Vehicles. There are lots of people because it is exactly 12 noon. The woman at the front desk (they've one-upped Texas here by even having a front desk) informs us that there are exactly 100 people in front of us to get new driver's licenses. So we settle on just getting our vehicle registered. We sit on a wooden bench among rows of wooden benches that remind me of those in front of every Cracker Barrel in the country and watch the announcement screen scrolling information in English and Chinese telling us about earthquakes in Peru and Japan, how the NFL is changing some key rules, and that we can donate our car to help children with life-threatening illnesses. There are only about 10 names ahead of us in the A-group, all going to the same lady at desk number 7. The automated voice calls a new number every 4 or 5 minutes (again, over-shadowing my Texas experiences by having a clear-speaking voice over an intercom system).

"A-199" the pleasant female robot voice calls. We walk to desk number 7. The woman informs us that they only take cash and check, and that it costs $86.00 to register our vehicle. Luckily they have an ATM machine across the hall (again, good idea Boston). So Joshua goes to get the money while I continue the registration process with the lady at desk number 7. Except the only document I've ever had as my vehicle title is apparently a photocopy. And we have no acceptable insurance.
"This is my proof of insurance, right here," I tell the woman, showing her our Farmer's Insurance form.
"No this is what your proof of insurance looks like," she says to me holding up a piece of paper. "You have to have Massachusetts insurance."
"Do I have to have my vehicle registered in Massachusetts to get insurance?" I ask, challenging her.
"No," she says.
"Do I have to have a Massachusetts license to get Massachusetts insurance?" I guess I am trying to pick a fight. By this point Joshua walks up. He's the most patient person I have ever met. I, on the other hand, have almost no tolerance for what I consider other people's stupidity. The lady at desk number 7 is now my representative for Massachusetts bureaucratic stupidity. But I try to remain professional.

She starts telling me all the things I really need to register my vehicle in Massachusetts. She's writing it down. I can't hear her. Not that she isn't speaking clearly, it's just that my frustration and anger are completely muffling her voice. Joshua, happily, is standing there making eye-contact with the woman as I ask her to repeat herself. I put the paper in my bag and we leave. I'm furious.

Now admittedly, I can overreact. I don't like for things that CAN BE so logical to be illogical and stupid. This process, so far, is completely illogical and stupid. And having experienced similar confusion of document and place when making previous visits to government agencies, I feel the United States of America need to come up with a user friendly online explanation of what you need for these official visits and where you need to go. It's not that hard. They already have all the information. It's just a matter of putting it in a place where the average American can find it, i.e. the internet. Each state thus will be a much more livable place.