Huntington Beach Library!
New
Yorkers walk. They walk everywhere. They walk every day and they walk a lot. In just a few weeks here in Huntington Beach,
we have clocked dozens of miles … and have been the only pedestrians on the
sidewalks. Oh, yes, we have seen people
getting in-and-out of their cars, but walkers in Southern California are
regarded with something curiously like suspicion.
So,
clearly we need a car to live here successfully. We sold our Old Reliable in New York before
heading West (a painless operation thanks to Craigslist), and are on the hunt
for new transportation. We also needed
to change our New York drivers licenses from East to West Coast, and our AirBNB
hostess graciously took us to the nearest Department of Motor Vehicles. What can I say, other than all DMV offices
are much the same, even in paradise?
The
office was clean and airy (at least), and having an appointment got us to the
front of the line. But, the fellow who
initially waited on us learned all of his ninja techniques from an extinct
sloth with sleeping sickness. When we
were through with that fellow, we moved on to another window to have our photos
taken. Thanks to our new license photos,
my better half now looks like a wax figure slightly melted, while I look like a
morose basset hound.
Finally,
we get to the window to take the written test (now done at computer terminals). I have been driving for more years than I can
count, but the thought of taking the written test again frankly terrified
me. My mood was not improved when I
arrived at the testing area. This was
commandeered by an officious dominatrix with anger management issues. She barked at me for standing on the wrong
line and screamed at my better half for checking his cell phone --- after taking the test. (“I’m going to
fail you!”) I finished first, and when my
better half arrived at her desk two people later, where she wanted to know,
“Why did you come back?” When he
explained that I was myself, and he only himself, she demanded to know why we looked
alike. It’s impossible to make this
stuff up.
Following
that ordeal, we went to the Huntington Beach library. This place is paradise! We got new library cards from a lovely and
gracious clerk … who loaned me a scissor so that I could demolish my New York
card. (Done with relish.) It would be hard to imagine a more
beautifully appointed library: the HB branch has three stories, elaborate
fountains and grounds, ample study space, and more than enough books to keep
even myself happy. Better yet, they do a
brisk business in used books, so if bibliomania should ever overtake me again,
I can do it inexpensively.
To
celebrate, we walked on the beach to watch the sunset … because we can. And, by jingo, we will do it again today.
Tomorrow: The Dude is West
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