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Good news for people who have been slacking on getting their Real IDs: Eureka’s brand-new Department of Motor Vehicles (DMV) office is open for business! 

After a five-and-a-half-year stay at the Bayshore Mall, the Eureka DMV has relocated to its new home at 2500 Sixth Street — the former Redwood Harley-Davidson at the northernmost end of town, just off Highway 101. The DMV closed its local office for a few weeks to accommodate the move, and on Wednesday, the widely despised government agency welcomed drivers to its new location. 

To commemorate this momentous occasion, your Lost Coast Outpost thought it might be fun to check out the DMV’s new digs and go through the minute-by-minute process of obtaining a Real ID because, yeah, I’ve been slackin’ on that too. 

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10:05 a.m.: As I approach the newly remodeled building, I look up at its government-sanctioned façade — a muted combination of Stonehenge Greige (brown), Crushed Silk (light tan), Night Rendezvous (blue) and Special Delivery (grey) — and the bold, electric blue “DMV” at its focal point. I contemplate its recent transformation from Redwood Harley-Davidson to a government agency and imagine a leather-clad biker patiently guiding someone through the painstaking process of correcting their misspelled name on their driver’s license. (Yes, this has happened to me.)

I walk past a sandwich board sign politely reminding visitors that certain services are no longer offered at the DMV offices, including vehicle registration renewal, most driver’s license/ID card renewals/replacements and driver/vehicle record requests. Apparently, you can do all that stuff online, but there is still a registration kiosk inside the new DMV.

I pull the door open and find myself at the tail end of a 25-person line snaking toward an employee sitting below a sign asking DMV visitors to “START HERE” for “NON-APPOINTMENTS ONLY.” A robotic female voice calls out numbers in the queue, and it makes me think of nursing home bingo. “Now serving B012 at window number eight.”

10:08 a.m.: The woman in front of me indulges in the unshakable urge to ask a man heading for the door how long he had to wait in line. “About an hour,” he replies, adding that it didn’t take as long as expected, considering it is opening day and all. A few people ahead of me, a mother bounces her baby up and down as a toddler runs in circles around her legs. The man in front of me is wearing a Playboy shirt. 

I look up at the cavernous ceiling and marvel at the gigantic fan slowly spinning over our heads. I try to mentally measure its diameter — eight or nine feet? — and recall that there is a real business called Big Ass Fans. 

Behind me, someone comments on how lovely the big windows are, adding that they like this space much more than the previous DMV location in the Bayshore Mall. That makes me kind of sad because, as you may already know, I love the Bayshore Mall. In fact, it kind of makes me want a Pretzel Dog™ from the Pretzelmaker.

Focus, Izzy.

10:17 a.m.: An energetic-looking woman with a lanyard and a coffee thermos walks toward us and asks if anyone in line needs to renew their license or apply for a Real ID. I raise my hand along with several others, and she directs us to a row of four or five computers and to fill out an online application. (If you want to save yourself some time, you can find the application for Real ID here.) It’s pretty straightforward, just the run-of-the-mill questions you’d answer for a regular driver’s license renewal application. I finish it in just a few minutes and go to the end of the line. 

Should I have asked for my spot back? That seems presumptuous. This is fine, there are only a dozen-odd people ahead of me.

10:21 a.m.: I look around the room and try to think about some of the other stuff future DMV visitors would want to know about. I count 13 service windows and note that the area where you have your picture taken is way down the line, out of view from people in the waiting area. Nice touch!

I notice the TV screens above the service windows are cycling through tips and tricks to make your DMV visit as efficient and enjoyable as possible. Woven in are bits of trivia about interval walking and the Carnarvon flapjack octopus, a newly discovered species of deep-sea octopus that can flatten itself into a pancake-like disc. There’s another video about Dubai chocolate, a pistachio-based treat, being sold at Trader Joe’s, and I laugh to myself thinking that the innards of the chocolate bar look like bits of the Grinch.

“Now serving G020 at window number six.”

10:30 a.m.: A new arrival announces to the people around him that he expected a big line on opening day, and takes the opportunity to bash the previous DMV local at the Bayshore Mall. I think about the Pretzel Dog™ again. The new arrival points at a curly-haired DMV employee at one of the service windows and tells the woman beside him that “she is the best.”

11:09 a.m.: Finally! I have ARRIVED! I tell the polite woman behind the counter that I am here to apply for a Real ID, eagerly adding that I’ve already filled out an application. She nods and asks for a form of identification and two pieces of mail to prove that I am not lying about my address. I present my passport, a jury duty summons and a tax form, adding that I also have my social security card on hand “just in case.” She doesn’t seem impressed. 

She hands my documents back to me along with a sheet of paper and asks if I’m ok with an “extremely long” wait, noting that there are 40 people ahead of me and lunchtime is quickly approaching. I courageously tell her it’s “totally fine,” but ask if she can give me a rough estimate of the wait time. She says she isn’t sure and assigns me G054.

I take a seat in a cluster of maroon chairs, suddenly realizing that “Dancing Queen” by ABBA is playing softly over the speakers. I notice another child running circles around their mother’s legs while she waits in line at the registration renewal kiosk.

11:20 a.m.: The man in front of me is loudly listening to enthusiastic sports commentators on his phone. Seemingly reading my mind, he turns the volume down and brings his phone a little closer to his ear. He alternates between listening and watching. 

I notice a couple sharing a pair of white earbuds, and it reminds me of bus rides home from middle school, listening to a burned copy of “American Idiot” by Green Day with my best friend. I reflect on my first emo phase and start thinking about music of the early aughts, when suddenly, as if the DMV is reading my mind, “In Too Deep” by Sum 41 starts playing. 

“Now serving B034 at window number eight.”

11:52 a.m.: As I begin to wonder how the lunchtime procedure works, I receive a text message informing me that my number will be called shortly. My heart flutters. “What is Love” by Haddaway is playing, and I think of the 1998 comedy sensation, A Night at the Roxbury. 

12:10 p.m.: Things are moving a little more slowly now that lunch is underway. I think the feminine robot just called out G045, meaning there’s about nine people ahead of me. I start playing the Wednesday edition of the New York Times crossword puzzle and roll my eyes at the clue: “They might be decked in December.”

12:45 p.m.: I jump out of my seat when G054 is finally called and am delighted to see the aforementioned curly-haired employee beckoning me to Window Six. I hand her my paperclipped documents, and she begins scanning, bopping along with “Walking on the Sun” by Smash Mouth. Holding my passport, she looks up and me and smiles, informing me that she, too, is a Virgo. 

As she scans my documents, I compliment her lovely disposition, and we talk about the importance of treating others with kindness. She calls me “darlin” a few times, and I just absolutely melt. 

Singing along with a U2 song I didn’t know, she returns my documents and hands me a few pieces of paper, directing me to a window a little further down to have my picture taken. “Stay beautiful!” she says, and I very nearly skip into the sunset.

12:50 p.m.: Down at the picture-taking station, another employee asks for my thumbprint and signature. I’m somewhat embarrassed by how sloppy my signature looks. She asks me to stand in front of a bright blue background and smile as the flash flashes. 

With the image secured, she tells me I can expect my brand-spankin’ new Real ID in the mail sometime in the next four weeks and sends me on my way. I bid her adieu and head out the exit conveniently located right behind me. I check the clock: 12:55 p.m.

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And there you have it, Humboldt! The new space is really nice and the wait times are still long, but not nearly as bad as those that the city folk have to deal with. The big takeaway: That guy was right — the DMV employee with the curly hair is truly the best.