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We dropped by Down to Earth for food later. I faxed in my verification form at the Fedex/Kinkos at the corner. Additionally, I printed our passport applications, hoping we'd be able to submit them soon. UH Manoa had a passport application option at the campus center. As soon as I'd prepared Eric's supporting documents, I wanted him to go ahead an apply, which we could use to gauge the time to receive our passports. Squinting at Eric's driver's license, the woman at the campus center clucked her tongue. Eric's license had delaminated. Though he still had the holographic lamination, it had separted from the diver's license. Thus, the office refused his id. As a result, Eric would just have to wait until our next trip into town to go through the wonders of the DMV before submitting his passport application. I knew he looked forward to that!

On our next trip into town, I was directing Eric where to go from the bus. I had a vague notion of where the DMV would be located. I thought I recalled it being on the north side of the street, but the google maps were fare from precise when it came down to actual street locations of buildings. As we passed the satellite city hall, Eric asked me if the DMV was over there. "No, I don't think so.... er....." I said as I suddenly read "department of motor vehicles" beneath the satellite city hall sign. Ooops. Frustrated, a proper mood for going to the DMV, Eric got off on the next stop into the hot summer sun. The bus departed and I watched him trudge back along the way we had come. Later, he told me of the attitude the lady inside was doling out to the patronized patrons. He told her that he needed a new license. She took a quick look at the license and issued the curt response, "Yes you do!" Fortunately, he was directed to another window, and thankfully, there was no cost for the reissue.

Over the next few days I waited for my birth certificate, refreshing the shipping status until I feared the page would tell me to "give it a rest already!" I worried from the cryptic conflicting messages on the vitalchek page that they would send me an aunauthorized birth certificate instead. Perhaps they'd used my identity authorization form to wrap their pizza in instead of processing it. And after all the hard work I did to get the damn form.

Finally, the web page indicated that the package had arrived in Honolulu and would be delivered that day! As PO Boxes weren't allowed for the express delivery option, I'd had it shipped to a colleague's address. Mark is rather more a friend than colleague as we've probably spent more time hanging out outside of class than inside it. Being marooned on a boat that's run aground somewhat has a bonding aspect to it. I messaged Mark online to let him know of the impending delivery. He assured me he'd probably be there when it arrived. Still waiting rather impatiently, I told Mark that the status had changed to "hiding in the bushes waiting for you to step out."

I decided to head to town in anticipation of receiving the birth certificate. En route, Mark called. The package had arrived! Not willing to take cances, I asked him to carefully open the envelope and ensure that the paper had been stamped with a multicolored and/or embossed official seal (I'd done my homework on what's required). He couldn't find it! Ah wait! No, there it is down at the bottom. Phew! I further implored him to keep it in a Ronald-proof location as toddlers have a detrimental effect on important documents. Thus, walking through the dry heat of McCully St, I arrived, claiming my birth... ummm... certificate. Finally, I'd recovered the one document long lost to my family. The last time I'd seen the real document was when I was 15 1/2 years old getting my learner's permit to drive. Later, my mom had emailed me a photocopy in 2005, though she claimed she couldn't find the original to send me. I suspected my birth certificate had become a focal point of her scrapbook to me, about me, that I'd heard rumors about. Apparently she's made them for all her children. Its probably one of those things made to remember her when she's gone. Its a shame she won't talk to me as she could still be a large part of my life. Ah, if only... alas, I digress.

The passport process itself proved to be short and sweet with little waiting. My first attempted picture seemed successful enough with their fancy camera. Still, I wished the camera had a blemish reduction filter. A short while after that, the woman at the window swore at me, and I swore back affirming that everything I'd entered on the application is truthful. After my meeting that day, I met up with Eric and helped him go through the same process. Eric took three attempts to get his picture right and I kept having to prevent him from using his handy red pen for the official documents. I did not want his application to be rjected solely because some bureaucrat couldn't photocopy the application due to the red ink. Hell, I've had documents rejected before because they weren't on the right color paper! ("Ah... I'm sorry, its not yellow." a notary had told me once.)

Disaster averted, we only had to wait for our passports. The UH helper scared me saying it'd take 2 to 3 weeks to process. Recovering from my fainting spell, I asked if that was really correct for the express option. "In that case, its only 7 to 10 days." she replied to my relief. She also told me that it'd take two days for the online tracking to become active. Five precious days later, online tracking finally came to life with a little surprise for us. The passports had already arrived in our mailbox! Hot damn!

With our pristine and highly patriotic passports in hand, we could finally book our plane tickets with confidence that we could actually get into a foreign country and back again. But where to go?