So, yay, cool, I found what I wanted. Spent some time reading people’s comments on the M9; basking in what was pretty much confirmation bias that I picked the right gun. Searched for the best deal locally and landed on a deal at a big box chain store.
I am a procrastinator. The Real ID due date was always more of a guideline than a deadline, especially with COVID making that deadline a moving target. Not to worry, says the state, bring your birth certificate and an additional proof of residency. Okay! I take that firearm safety certification test, pass, then go over for one last fondle on the M9. Time to start paperwork. I presented my drivers license, my birth certificate, my mortgage statement, and my electric bill. Let’s go.
Then began the hurdles. My birth certificate doesn’t match my drivers license. Well, crap. That’s on me, because I should have brought my marriage certificate. I run home, grab it, and run back. Let’s do this.
Even though a mortgage statement was on the state approved list of documents, my particular mortgage statement was not accepted because it could be sent anywhere. The clerk asked if my car was under my name. Indeed it is. Grab that, hand it over.
I’ve owned this car for 4 years. How is it that I never noticed that my name was misspelled? That makes that identifier invalid. Grr. Thanks to a couple of spinal fusion surgeries, I have a permanent disabled placard. That had my name and address, spelled correctly.
Several paperwork checks later, there was some hesitation about my marriage certificate. It wasn’t what they usually see. I was married in the 90’s. Forms looked different then. It was probably okay enough to proceed. They pull my gun from the vault, more forms, and now that serial number is tied to me.
I bought a gun.
*SpongeBob narrator voice*
24 hours later. Well, maybe 26 hours, a missed call alert danced across my phone screen while I slept to work a night shift that night. Then a voicemail— a voicemail my phone held hostage until eleven that night. My marriage certificate had issues. It didn’t clearly define my name change. Yup. That exact same paper that changed my drivers license and social security number almost 30 years ago wasn’t enough. Best suggestion? Get a Real ID. That would clearly establish in the state’s eyes that I was who I said I was. Be quick about it though, because if I didn’t pick up the firearm by latest release date I would have to refile my background check. Once I had that in my hand I could come down and pick up my little friend, no problem (within the next 25 days, that is).
This was the point where I started to feel defeated by the system. The only paperwork that existed to link my birth certificate name to my current name was under question. How was I supposed to get a Real ID if that paperwork wasn’t enough?
Turns out, the DMV is less picky than a firearm dealer. That paperwork was fine. Mild pause, sure, but not a hard stop. And three weeks later? I had that ID in my hand. All that delay, all that “oh yeah I really should do this” was squashed in a 5 minute face to face meeting with the DMV lady, $40, and 3 weeks of mailbox stalking.
I’m now in possession of my very first firearm. Her name is Betts.