I’ll take your DMV any day!

Have you ever complained about the slowness and incompetence of the Department of Motor Vehicles? Well, after I tell you the hurdles I had to get over in order to renew my Venezuelan ID, you’re going to start feeling much more appreciation for your local DMV.

First off, there is a difference between an ID and a driver’s license in Venezuela. Your driver’s license looks sort of like a credit card: it has your name and license number; while your ID is the equivalent of your Social Security Card, but the ID card has your #, your full name, your picture, thumb print and your signature.

This ID, called “cédula,” has to be renewed every 10 years. Since I no longer live in Venezuela, I really don’t need to worry about renewals (not even to vote, since an expired ID will do just fine). The reason I’m here is that I got married and my name changed. I got a greencard with my new name, and all of my documents have now been changed, with the exception of my passport. The only way to change my name on my passport is to have a cédula that reflects the new name. Unfortunately, I cannot get cédula updates at the consulate within the US, so I came down and ran this errand. Hopefully this will be the last government procedure I will ever have to endure in my motherland. Any other passport changes can be made through the Consulate in Boston.

We woke up at 5am, and made it to the East Park (Parque del Este) by 6am. The park is a city landmark, and quite large in area. I remember when my grandparents used to bring us here when we were little to watch the animal cages and play some beach-ball soccer 🙂 Fun times. They even had a replica of Christopher Colombus’s ship La Santa María (which they took down when President Chávez denounced the violent Spanish conquest of Latin America – result: no more Columbus Day celebration for us). But I digress. Anyways, turns out that there are not enough offices where people can comfortably perform any type of ID updates, so there are mobile “operative blitzes” in different parts of Caracas. We came to the one in East Park.

We got here at 6am, and were the 5th in line. Those who were ahead of us got here at 5:30am. We stood and waited for a while. At 6:45am, the worker in the food stand, adjacent to the empty space where the cédula workers would be setting up shop, announced that he heard the blitz had been canceled for today, and he would confirm later. He suggested that the closest operative that might still be on was in Los Ruices (two subway stations away).

My mother recalled that last time she went there the machine had been taken away to a different location, so the Los Ruices blitz might not be a sure thing either. We decided to divide and conquer: she went on her own to stand in line in Los Ruices until we heard wether it was happening here for sure.

I kept reading my book (Darkly Dreaming Dexter – I was half way through it when I put it down last night), and just waited. At around 8am, the food stand worker let us know that it was still on. I called my mother with the news, but we decided to stay in place until it was a sure thing. I saw them set up the chairs and block off the area, and instructed my mother to head back. They finished setting up at around 9:30ish and started calling children and senior citizens up first.

While I waited, my mother got me breakfast from the food stand. I went for NATURAL FRESH-SQUEEZED orange juice, and a tequeñón (bread rolled up with cheese inside). I LOVE my orange juice here.

At around 10:45 or so, I was next in line to provide my credentials and for them to make sure I got the requirements needed for what I needed done. They pretty much refused to change my name to First and New-Last. It had to be First Old-Last “de” New-last. That’s the standard naming convention in most of Latin America. For example, if Jane Smith marries John Doe, her new name would be Jane Smith de Doe. I asked for just plain Jane Doe, but they would have none of it. Now my greencard (“Jane Doe”) will not match my new passport (“Jane Smith de Doe”), great. I just hope I don’t get beef from airlines à la Joan Rivers.

At 11:38am I was still standing in line to get my picture taken. It finally happened at 12 o’clock. We wiped the sweat off our brows at that point: we heard they usually took a break for lunch at noon.

By that time I had finished reading my book. My mother had not only come back from Los Ruices, she had also gone back home to pick up a slip she needed to get some papers at another government office. She came back, and left again to get her errand done. Then came back and sat to listen to the radio. I also finished my book – hate to kill the suspense, but LaGuerta dies at the end of the first Dexter book! That was unexpected.

While I waited in the photo line, people started to get out of control. Masses of people crossed the yellow tape and started cutting in in front of others. People started to yell at the organizers telling them what a mess this whole thing was, and the organizers decided to call the National Guard to come play line referee. Yup, they just had nothing better to do. The lady in front of me in line (who I’m convinced had cut in front of me at some point) was texting to somebody “I’m not out yet. This is a mess,” and I couldn’t agree more.

I waited for my name to be called up for the next stage: signing the document to verify my identity. I saw people who had been behind me get called. I even talked to a National Guard to please let me approach the table to ask about my stuff. At 12:20 they finally found my paperwork, and I waited for my name to be called again to receive my laminated ID card.

I was out by 12:35pm. FINALLY!

I recorded some video so you can see where the “operative” took place at the park, and so you see what a mess it was! Can you tell how many lines there are? You won’t. We couldn’t even figure that out ourselves. What you CAN see is the mile long line of people who got there late. They’ll never make it.

Something funny did happen. Every time I told an organizer I was there to change my marital status to “married,” they all asked “What the hell for?” After 6 and half hours of this ordeal, I was asking myself the same thing…

All I can say is: the DMV rocks.

ina

PS: Come back for pictures and video later — I’ll have to edit the videos when I get home next week. I took a whole 360 of the situation.