Saturday, July 23, 2011 - It was a week and change before we'd be leaving. Our carefully laid plans to this point had, for the most part, panned out. There were some major exceptions to that statement. Dave's broken ankle in New Orleans at Mardi Gras was definitely a wrench in the plans. His recuperation necessitated us pushing back the move by a few months, which in hindsight was probably a blessing in disguise. We were barely ready at this point, now the middle of July, a move in early May would have definitely been out of the question.
It was late afternoon. I had just gotten back from my first 'real' driving lesson. According to our friend Michael, I'd done extremely well for someone who had spent most of his adult life avoiding taking the wheel of a car. And in his words, “Anyone who can learn to drive in South Philly will do well ANYWHERE.” I was especially proud that after the trips round and round in the IKEA parking lot at Delaware & Oregon I'd been told, “Ok, you are driving back to your place.” The shock and horror on my face did nothing to change the fact that soon I was sinking-or-swimming in Saturday afternoon traffic, ground zero, Italian Market. Taxi cabs and Septa buses aside, I kept my cool and eventually pulled up to the curb at 9th Street. I felt good. It had only been a week and a half since Dave brought Rupert home for the first time and our shiny (new) Honda Pilot had been and invaluable addition to the tasks at hand. Dave had been licensed for less than a month and we were set to embark on our 1100 mile odyssey in 7 days. Now all I had to do was pass MY test. “Flying Colors” was used to describe my initial success. This was however, only the beginning of what would become a nerve-wracking six day marathon... and I'm not even talking about the overall moving process.
The following days we continued to clean, purge, pack and of course, bicker. Anyone who knows us well (hell, even if you don't know us all THAT well) knows that we basically agree in concept. It's the agreement on execution that is generally our problem. Fifteen years of settling into apt #1 at the Bonaparte House had left us with a massive accumulation of STUFF. Books, cds, vinyl records... these were the bulk of the 'raw tonnage' we'd need to stow and move, but as we cleaned in preparation for the day of departure layers of our past were unearthed as if we were on some crazy archaeological dig. And if Dave was the Indiana Jones character striving to preserve the antiquities... I was to play the Belloq character. Sure we could keep some of the stuff, but only if it would benefit ME... mwahahahahahaaha. Ok, that's a little over top. Needless to say I was throwing stuff out left and right. Our joint mantra was quickly decided on: “We just have to get through this.” It would be repeated many, many times in the coming days.
Sunday came and went. Packing and cleaning, prepping and planning were all sandwiched together. Dave and I managed to NOT kill each other in the process, which was a good thing. I even had a chance to go driving for the first time in Rupert, which would not be repeated with Dave, as in most things we attempted to teach each other... driving ended up with both of us completely frustrated. I had lined up another session with Michael, and one with our friend Keith, both of whom had also taught Dave to drive not even a month before. We spent two days doing what needed to be done as far as packing and on Tuesday evening we were in good enough shape to be able to receive our friend Jim from New Orleans, who was flying up the next day to drive the truck back with us. Our original plan was to have Jim AND his partner John drive back, but unfortunately John had double booked himself and wasn't going to be able to make it. Our fears and anxieties running high, we anticipated an arduous trip ahead. If anything should happen neither Dave nor I would be able to take over driving the truck... and if I didn't pass my driver's test in the first place I wouldn't be doing much driving at all. Luckily I had been able to schedule a road test for Wednesday morning. That in and of itself was simultaneously a good sign and a mark of sheer persistence. ( A side note here: If you are trying to get a road test in Philly, make sure you camp out on the DMV website. The scheduling is done online and openings are be posted throughout the day for your desired test center. Just check every ½ hour and you will eventually manage to get a test when you want it. This was the ONLY way I was able to get everything done in such a short amount of time, as you will see shortly )
Wednesday morning we woke bright and early and prepared to run me up to the West Oak Lane testing center. I'd had to take what was available and the center on Ogontz Ave. was the first to come up, so I jumped on it. A word of caution: don't, I repeat, DON'T take a road test there. It's insanely located, the traffic patterns around the shopping center it's in are nuts and if you are unlucky enough to get the dominatrix I had testing me you will fail. Now granted, I wasn't prepared mentally OR physically for this test, so perhaps I'm being a little harsh on 'Frau Impatient.' You simply need to know your surroundings, AND know what the test will be comprised of, AND know how to read the mind of your tester. I failed. It was frustrating and I began thinking, “Ok, well, I just need to schedule another one as soon as possible. Within an hour of returning home I had an appointment the next morning at the center on Columbus Blvd. This time our friend Will would take me. And this time I was determined to pass. The day wore on and we excitedly picked up Jim from the airport that night. Dinner, drinks and some time off were needed... and had. We would step up the process of packing first thing in the morning, but that night we got tipsy. I certainly needed it.
Aside from my driving anxieties things that week had been going fairly well. The apartment was slowly getting packed and with Jim's arrival we now had a steadying influence PLUS an extra set of hands. Unfortunately that smooth sailing was about to be broken. Dave had originally planned and booked a moving truck through Budget truck rental. He found out, thank god, a few days ahead of time, that for some reason they WOULDN'T have a truck for us that coming Saturday as he'd arrange weeks ago. There was no adequate explanation given, nor was there any real attempt on their part to secure us a truck as they'd agreed. A few hours of angry discourse which saw Dave climbing up the chain of command for Budget to the regional manager resulted in... nothing. Luckily for us our friend Will had much in the line of transportation logistics experience. He suggested Penske. They would prove to be our saviors in this situation. Not only did they have a truck, but they were head and shoulders above Budget in terms of professionalism and reliability. Last minute scheduling? No problem. We would have our truck come Saturday morning. *Disaster narrowly averted*
Packing continued Thursday, but unfortunately for me my driving skills proved AGAIN to be inadequate. My paralleling was fine, and the course around the DMV center was a little less hectic than the day before. My tester was even more friendly and easy to understand. (imagine that) I however fell victim to the dreaded 'rolling stop,' which instantly FAILS you. I was crestfallen to say the least. Time was running out. Even if I could schedule another test the following day I was beginning to feel a sense of dread descending. What if I didn't pass in time? What if I had to leave that Sunday and only possess a driver's permit? Would I be able to drive cross country? Would I have to start all over again in Louisiana? The clock was ticking and I was getting more and more anxious. I was kicking myself for NOT having taken care of this before now and it was gnawing away at my temper. We WERE however continuing to pack with little interruption and luckily few major problems. Loading would commence come Saturday... the only mitigating issue... the heat wave descending on the area. Fun!
Once more I was able to game the system and obtain a test for the next morning. Persistence pays off, remember what I said about PennDOT. I'm not sure what kind of waiting period is imposed on you after a failed test in other states, but Pennsylvania being lax on this really saved my ass. Having two failures under my belt I had come to the realization that I could only try to do my best... nothing more. The familiarity of the situation actually began to calm me down as well. “If at first you don't succeed, drink it off and get on with it....” - That's what got me through that week. Friday morning Will met me at 9th Street and we drove up to the Lawncrest DMV center. The drill was similar to the previous two days, and I eventually paired up with my tester. It was a friggin' hot day. When she finally settled into the passenger side of Rupert she exhaled with relief. “Thank god for air conditioning!” she smiled, pushing her long dreads to one side. She had a calming affect on me as we went through the parallel parking test. “That's it! 
You're good.” she again smiled calmly. At that point I simply wanted to get things over with. She instructed me to pull out of the parking lot and we began the road test. A few minutes later we had driven through the semi-suburban Northeast Philly neighborhoods, and rounded back to the testing center's parking lot. I pulled in and parked the car. We both sat for another minute in the cool comfort. An awkward silence developed. “Ummmm, well?” I finally asked. Poker-faced she looked back at me. “You're done.” I didn't quite know what she meant, as I was fully prepared for her to say, “FAIL!” I shot her a quizzical look and asked, “I passed?” She gathered her clip board up and finally smiled, “Yeah...you passed.” At that point I burst out laughing. She didn't really understand but choked it up to a mental high-five, I'm sure. As we walked to the building I gave her a short explanation of my previous two attempts. She only smiled and told me she'd seen that noted on my permit, but that I'd done perfectly well as far as she was concerned. “Congratulations,” she shook my hand and we parted. As I took my seat to wait for my paperwork to be processed I texted Will, who was around there somewhere. “I PASSED!”
A thousand pound weight had been lifted off my shoulders. Friday had never felt so wonderful. Now we just had to get the truck packed, in the heat... which would be no small task.
