The California Bar Examination

I passed, on the first attempt, and despite working full time for most of the time until the test, and despite, frankly, not taking the test seriously enough. I had thought that passing the Ohio bar, in 2002, and the eight years of practice since then, would make this more of a breeze for me. I was sorely mistaken in that respect, and I might put up a longer, more serious (and therefore boring) post on the particulars of the California Bar Exam, including why it is so difficult to prepare and study for. Needless to say, I am elated that I passed and can finally get back into a courtroom. I would be remiss if I did not send a major shout out to Lindsey, who has been nothing less than phenomenal and supportive the past few months, dealing with my moods and assuring me that if I failed she wouldn't ball me up and kick me to the curb.

What I want to share with you is, of course, a fantastic story that dealt with the bar exam. I first moved to California in March 2009. I originally planned to stay for a few months and then decide what to do from there - move back to Ohio, or maybe to New York, or maybe Chicago, or maybe somewhere else, or maybe spend a year in Europe getting an advanced law degree. Once I landed a job in the early part of the summer, and then saw the job market plunge deeper into despair, I decided to stay put at least for the time being. Then I met Lindsey, and that assured that I would be here for as long as she would have.

Despite this, I never got around to registering my car or getting a California license. To make matters worse, i forgot to re-register my car in Ohio before I left for California. In other words, I had neither a valid California nor a valid Ohio registration. I did not view this as a problem, though, because I had driven like this for almost a year.

First day of the Bar Exam, I got up early and went to leave for the exam site. I left my place at 8:00 a.m. to make the 15 minute drive (as I've noted, EVERYTHING here is 15 min away) to the test center. No one in San Diego gets up before about noon, especially around the beach. They sleep in til then, slip on their Vans, and head to a coffee shop for some caffeine in preparation for an afternoon of Wii, "surf seshes," and pot.

Every day when I left my place at the beach to go somewhere, i would go down the alley behind our place, turn left down a narrower alley, and turn right onto the main street in Mission Beach, which is Mission Boulevard. The reason: it is easier to make a left turn onto the other main road from Mission. For whatever reason, that day I decided to go all the way down the alley, take a left, and wait at the stoplight to cross OVER Mission Boulevard. This is where my trouble started.

Of course there were no pedestrians, skateboarders, or, really, other cars at this hour. I pull up to the stoplight, just missing the yellow light. So I stop. I glance in my rearview mirror and see a cop car pulling onto the road from the alley. i try to smoothly get in the right turn lane so I can go down a bit and then turn around, thereby avoiding the cop. I get in the right turn lane...and so does the cop. I drive down the road a bit and get into the right turn lane to pull into a parking lot. So does the cop. I get back into the middle lane and the cop puts his lights on. Dammit. It is about 8:10 and I need to be at the test center in time to fire up my laptop, start the software program on which I need to type my answers, reboot the computer, have it restart, and be in my seat for instructions that began around 8:45.

Keep in mind that my car is an absolute pig stye. There are papers everywhere, empty fountain drinks, and probably dead animals for all I know. Both cops get out, because this was a BFD and all, and I roll down my window. The cop tells me I got pulled over because my tail light was out. He asks for my license, registration, and proof of insurance. I give over my license, but I have no idea where my (expired) registration is, nor did I remember to grab my new insurance cards. I tell him that I live about 2 blocks away and can get the insurance cards. I am not sure if I appeared to be a menace or otherwise prone to running, but this was not an option, he said. The cops go back to their car for what seems like an eternity.

Finally, around 8:25, I get out of my car and approach them. In the meantime, as is apparently the custom in San Diego, another cop car shows up with two more cops, because, you know, this was a BFD and all. The two new cops intercept me and ask me what I am doing. I tell them that I do not care if they tow my car, but I have to leave and find a cab or else I am going to miss this bar exam and will be royally effed (not to mention 3K lighter in the wallet for nothing). They say I cannot leave until they write the ticket. The original cop comes back to me and says that he has no discretion - he has to tow it because my registration had been expired for 6+ months.

I say, again, fine, whatever, but can you hurry and write me the ticket so I can leave? I say that I do not have to be here for them to tow it. He says, again, as soon as the ticket is written. He finally finishes writing the ticket and I bolt down Mission Boulevard, laptop in my arms. Yes, me, running down the road in a sweater and nice shoes (big believer in look good, feel good, do well on exams) with my laptop clutched to my chest. They stay behind to wait for the tow truck and commit God knows how many unconstitutional searches and seizures on my car.

I get down to the original stoplight where they first followed me, pretty much out of breath. I need a cab, and quickly. Usually this spot is filled with cabs, transporting people schnookered on sunshine, Pacifico, and bad hair cuts, but not this morning. It's too early. I finally see one and flag him down from across the intersection. Problem is, he is already turning right, so I yell for him to stop. Then I realize that I have no cash. I put up a finger to signal him to wait, and I dash across the street to an ATM. I make my transaction, look back, and see that the cabbie....has vanished. It is 8:35. FML.

I see another cabbie a few minutes later, sprint to his cab, and tell him that I will give him $40 if he gets me to the test center in 8 minutes. He agrees to take on the challenge, and proceeds to drive about 350 mph. We get to the test center, which is a hotel, I practically throw the $40 to him, and jump out. I go into the hotel, and ask at the front desk where the bar exam is. They tell me it is in the conference hall. Where is that, I ask? All the eff around the corner of this complex. Jesuscristo.

So I sprint out of the hotel main entrance, and run around the corner. This is a huge complex and there is also some conference going on in another conference hall. I finally find the right doors, and learn that I cannot take my phone into the test center. So I dump it into this box, certain that Johnny Robber is going to steal my phone and dump it into a burrito, with avocado of course, after calling 1-900-SURF-SEX a few hundred times. I don't have a choice, though.

There are hundreds of people in the conference hall. And of course my "number" dictates that I have to go all the way across and to the front of the room. I finally get into my seat while instructions are being given. I don't have a clock or even a pen or pencil. The girl sitting next to me gives me one, with this annoyed, "oh my gawd, you totally must have gone to Dumbass Law School and have no prayer of passing this thing, ... but cool sweater, dork."

i finally get through all the computer steps and by the time it is ready the exam is already a good five to ten minutes in.

I only had to take the Tuesday and Thursday portions of the exam, because I was an "Attorney Applicant." I learned that this actually made me LESS likely to pass. Ugh. Rather than spending the middle day studying, or, more importantly, spending the day with Lindsey since it was her BIRTHDAY, I was at the DMV and the impound all freaking day. (More on the wonderful DMV in another post).

But I passed. In your face.