I
found out I was an attorney while sitting outside of the Al Tahoe
Laundromat. It’s not exactly how you’d
dream it up, but we didn’t mind. It was
over. Thank God, it was all over.
Starting
at 5 o’clock last night I was convinced that I had failed. After several months of waiting, and now just
sixty minutes until I had my bar exam results, I had become a shivering shack
of bones. It didn’t matter that when I
had walked out of the Ontario Convention Test Center on that clear evening in
February that I had felt ecstatic and assured that I had passed. It didn’t matter that I had twice the legal
knowledge and test-taking skills this time around. It didn’t matter that I had just made a large
glass of wine evaporate in an instant. None
of that mattered. I had never been so
nervous in my life.
The
caffeine probably didn’t help. After
giving up caffeine a year and a half ago, I demonstrated the sound reasoning of
a hopeful lawyer and picked up a latte at noon from Starbucks on our way up to
Tahoe yesterday. The caffeine high felt
like grabbing a drink with an old friend who is funny and smart and makes you
feel really funny and smart, but then after an hour and a half you remember why
you don’t hang out with him anymore: his annoying roommate always shows up and
makes you feel uncomfortable and jittery.
I
had felt nothing but confidence since walking out of the test center in
February. I hadn’t lost a night’s sleep
over it. May 17th was marked
on my calendar purely as a day to look forward to, not dread. And I woke up yesterday feeling well rested
and excited. I felt like a kid on
Christmas Eve, with the gift opening to take place at 6pm. But once we began our ascent up the hill to
South Lake, we lost our radio signal and, in turn, I lost my comforting
pacifier of distraction and instead stared blankly at the winding road ahead of
me, plowing forward. It was 4 o’clock
and my stomach was in knots. Two hours.
We
arrived at Tracy’s parent’s cabin around five.
Immediately, I ran to the television where I tried desperately to track
down the Giants pre-game discussion.
Anything! Give me anything to distract
myself! Yes, you’re right. We need a big
start tonight from Bumgardner. We can’t
continue to rely on our offense to come from behind and HOLY SHIT 30 MINUTES!
The
Giants jumped out to an early lead and for a moment I was lost in the
game. Then it was 6 o’clock and I was no
longer lost in the game but instead had vanished to the bathroom. A few moments later, I returned to the living
room where Tracy and my iPad were sitting with anticipation. Let’s
do this. But I don’t want to!
With
trembling hands I typed in the California bar website and waited… and waited…
and continued to wait. Refresh. Nothing.
Refresh. The main page came up,
but two more pages were left to navigate.
I clicked on the “future lawyers” tab and the page continued to
stall. Refresh. Nothing.
My network signal was too weak. After
twenty minutes of agony, I demanded that we go to the one place in town with
free Wi-Fi. “Are you sure, Doug?” “Yes,
T. I just want to get this over
with. I don’t care where we do it.” I was out of breath.
Tracy
started my truck and I hopped in the passenger seat, clutching to my lifeless
iPad. We took the back road and
navigated through poorly designed parking lots.
“Where is this place? Did we
already pass it?” I asked nervously.
“No, it’s just another block.” “Okay.” I tried to take a deep breath.
“See,
here. It’s right there, across the
street. I’ll just park here. See if you can get the Wi-Fi.” I opened up my
iPad and there it was, with four precious bars gleaming: Al Tahoe Laundromat Wi-Fi Access.
A few clicks later, I was staring face-to-face with my fate. Ten numbers and a click of a button and I
would know. But I don’t want to know. But
you have to know! It all seemed so
cruel. After several months—years, if
you include law school—of studying and the months of waiting after the exam, we
have to find out this way? Green words
or red words. Thumbs up or thumbs
down. No human face to tell you
“congratulations” or “we’re sorry.” Seeing
red words the first time traumatized me.
Even just opening a letter saying such words would seem like a cuddly
blanket in comparison. But entering my
ten numbers and rolling the dice seemed so cold.
I
soon learned, however, how warm and swaddling seeing green can feel. Everything just washed over me. The failure was erased. The hours of lecture and endless practice
problems; the long nights and lack of weekends; the feeling that no matter how
many hours I studied, that I couldn’t do enough because there was just so much
to know. That’s all gone, in an
instant. I never have to do that
again. Ever. The joy is almost too overwhelming to
appropriately feel right now, let alone describe.
However,
the one feeling that I do feel like I can speak of right now is one of
connectedness. In what can be characterized as such an individual pursuit—passing
the bar exam—what has struck me since finding out I passed the exam is how
that’s really not true at all. I know it
is a cliché in moments like this to thank everyone who has helped you along the
way. But cliché’s become cliché’s
because they are true.
The
stress wasn’t just mine and mine alone.
My wife felt my stress and lived it with me. She kept me balanced and made it possible for
me to myopically pursue this goal—all I had to do was the dishes. My family and friends lived my stress. They all encouraged me to re-test and
supported me throughout the process, some even financially.
My
parents lived my stress. Not only did
they experience me taking that test once while staying in their home, but
twice. I think I slept better than my
dad did during those exams. And because
it took me 30 minutes past 6 o’clock to let anyone know that I had passed, at
6:25 my parents assumed I didn’t pass and were tearfully hugging in the
kitchen. The second I sent out the good
news to friends and family, my phone exploded.
When
Tracy passed the July exam and I didn’t, I said it felt like half of me had
passed and half of her didn’t.
This
time it feels like we all passed.
