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So, as of right now, I've been married for a year already, even though I woke up today a mere partner in a civil union. Confused? Well, that's where a lot of fighting over semantics and artful legal compromises designed to please no one gets you. But at least that's all behind us now in Illinois (and two thirds of the country, at last count).
The conversion was smooth and would've been the work of a moment if not for the fact that the clerk we got had never done one before and had to be walked through Every. Little. Step. by her colleague. She was none too quick on the uptake either; she couldn't seem to grasp, for instance, that the whole point of a conversion is that we didn't have to pay another fee. On the other hand, a sharper cookie might've spotted that my passport had expired, something pointed out to me by a TSA agent last month when I flew back from St Louis. (As I told her, the agents at Midway never seem to catch these things.)
I have to say, the whole bureaucracy around personal IDs has only gotten more ridiculous over time. They're now required for more things than ever (last time I saw my doctor, they asked to see one) and I'm presently caught in catch-22 where, in order to get my passport renewed, I have to send it in, but if I do that, I'm unable to entre a bar or get on an airplane for six to eight weeks until the replacement arrives. (As the agent explained, the TSA accepts expired passports for up to a year, but of course what's fine for the Feds is no go for the great minds of the State of Illinois.) What irks me the most is, of course, all I really need an ID for most of the time is to establish my date of birth and that hasn't changed. What does it matter if I can't leave the country with that passport? Exactly what kind of fraud are they ostensibly trying to prevent here?
Meanwhile, I'm trying to get a State ID as a backup. Last time I was in the office, they refused to renew it and are making me reapply from scratch, which means (since they won't accept an "invalid" passport) I need to dig out my birth certificate. I've searched high and low and my last hope is that it's in my safe deposit box which I haven't checked in years--and the key to which I only managed to find last night. I'd honestly given up on finding it again when it turned up unexpectedly on top of the dresser. My relief at not having to pay an exorbitant drill-out fee utterly compensates for the fact that I'll have to make another trip to the DMV to complete the application. Also, the supervisor officially confirmed that they'll accept my notarised letter from the SSA as proof of my social security number (but not my DOB even though it establishes both--again, Illinois, outjobsworthing than the Feds!), so that's one more tedious errand I've been spared.
Over our post-conversion celebration at Lavazza, I drew![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
monshu's attention to the fact that, since this is an entirely novel rite-of-passage in our society, we're allowed to make up our own rules for commemorating it. I suggested that, rather than getting new appliances (as we would for a wedding), we're only allowed to get our existing ones refurbished. Like fixing the toaster, or getting a new door for the fridge that's actually stainless steel rather than this cheap aluminium. And, at the reception, I guess everyone buys their own food and we just pay to supersize it?
The conversion was smooth and would've been the work of a moment if not for the fact that the clerk we got had never done one before and had to be walked through Every. Little. Step. by her colleague. She was none too quick on the uptake either; she couldn't seem to grasp, for instance, that the whole point of a conversion is that we didn't have to pay another fee. On the other hand, a sharper cookie might've spotted that my passport had expired, something pointed out to me by a TSA agent last month when I flew back from St Louis. (As I told her, the agents at Midway never seem to catch these things.)
I have to say, the whole bureaucracy around personal IDs has only gotten more ridiculous over time. They're now required for more things than ever (last time I saw my doctor, they asked to see one) and I'm presently caught in catch-22 where, in order to get my passport renewed, I have to send it in, but if I do that, I'm unable to entre a bar or get on an airplane for six to eight weeks until the replacement arrives. (As the agent explained, the TSA accepts expired passports for up to a year, but of course what's fine for the Feds is no go for the great minds of the State of Illinois.) What irks me the most is, of course, all I really need an ID for most of the time is to establish my date of birth and that hasn't changed. What does it matter if I can't leave the country with that passport? Exactly what kind of fraud are they ostensibly trying to prevent here?
Meanwhile, I'm trying to get a State ID as a backup. Last time I was in the office, they refused to renew it and are making me reapply from scratch, which means (since they won't accept an "invalid" passport) I need to dig out my birth certificate. I've searched high and low and my last hope is that it's in my safe deposit box which I haven't checked in years--and the key to which I only managed to find last night. I'd honestly given up on finding it again when it turned up unexpectedly on top of the dresser. My relief at not having to pay an exorbitant drill-out fee utterly compensates for the fact that I'll have to make another trip to the DMV to complete the application. Also, the supervisor officially confirmed that they'll accept my notarised letter from the SSA as proof of my social security number (but not my DOB even though it establishes both--again, Illinois, outjobsworthing than the Feds!), so that's one more tedious errand I've been spared.
Over our post-conversion celebration at Lavazza, I drew
monshu's attention to the fact that, since this is an entirely novel rite-of-passage in our society, we're allowed to make up our own rules for commemorating it. I suggested that, rather than getting new appliances (as we would for a wedding), we're only allowed to get our existing ones refurbished. Like fixing the toaster, or getting a new door for the fridge that's actually stainless steel rather than this cheap aluminium. And, at the reception, I guess everyone buys their own food and we just pay to supersize it?