Lower unit lubed? Check!
Trailer tire pressure? Check!
Batteries charged? Check!
Gasoline/oil mixed? Check!
Sonar and GPS up and running, rods and reels rigged? Check and check!
Fishing license? No problem there since it's good through April 30.
By the time my fishing partner got to the house Saturday morning, the boat was rolled out of the garage, hitched to the truck and ready for some early season crappie fishing.
"Hey, Cross," he said inspecting the bow of my boat, "You've got the new registration stickers someplace?"
"Huh? Tell me they don't say '09," I said.
"Yup, 'expiration December '09'."
Damn! I rushed back into the house. "I don't suppose you happen to remember if we got a boat registration card in the mail?" I asked my wife, accusingly.
"No, but if we did, it's probably in the pile of papers on the counter," she said. "Your pile of papers."
I began shuffling through the stack. Half way through, I came to a postcard reminder from the DNR that I now vaguely recalled seeing last December.
But now to find a license bureau open on a Saturday? Fat chance!
I then turned to the back of the card and glanced through the listed options. Applying in person, through the mail ... and there it was: Online registration.
"Hey, I think we're in business," I said, hurrying downstairs where one of the family computers hummed quietly. I entered in the website address on the vintage machine, the only one in our household currently connected to a printer.
The computer whirred and clicked, with beads of sweat figuratively forming on the monitor as it labored to call the website up. After several seconds, a page appeared requesting me to enter my pertinent information.
Filling in the blanks, I clicked on "continue." More figurative beads of computer sweat. The screen flickered. "Problem loading page."
Several more starts and stops, and a rebooting, yielded similar results. I looked at my watch. Still time for the public library.
We raced down to the public library, signed on to a computer. I again entered the pertinent information and clicked "continue."
The sleek, state-of-the-technology machine barely hesitated before another page came up on the screen, something explaining that the address the DNR has on file didn't match the one I entered. It then asked if I would like to enter the correct address.
You bet I would.
I entered the information once again. Same result. I substituted the St. in St. Peter with Saint. Again, same result. I wrote out Lane instead of the abbreviation Ln. Ditto.
I began to see myself with a rake in my hand instead of a fishing pole. The crappies were getting farther and farther away by the minute.
After trying various address and name combinations, a new screen appeared - the DNR's customer service page for John L. Cross, including not only my drivers license number but a thing called a customer ID number.
Running out of options, instead of using my DL number, I typed in the customer ID number.
The screen flickered and then magically, the next page in the registration process materialized. "I don't know exactly what I did," I told my friend as he looked over my shoulder, "but I think we're in."
I quickly entered the registration numbers, my VISA card number and clicked "finish."
I then clicked "print" to obtain my temporary proof of registration, just in case our path might cross with a dutiful conservation officer while out on the water.
I walked over to the printer a few feet away. Nothing.
I looked questioningly over to the library check-out desk where the librarian watched. "Oh, I have to activate the printer from here," she explained. "A black-and-white copy costs a quarter."
I searched all my pockets.
"Can I borrow a quarter," I finally asked my friend.
She tapped at her keyboard and the printer whirred and spit out the coveted registration.
Finally, we were going fishing.
...
John Cross is a Mankato Free Press staff writer. Contact him at (507) 344-6376 or jcross@mankatofreepress.com.
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The Outdoors: Road to crappie fishing takes unexpected detour
Originally published in the April 16, 2010, print edition.
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