Getting our marriage license today was the exact sort of experience you’d hope you’d have when going to the town hall of a small town.
Everyone was friendly, and kind, and moved at a pace so relaxed that, at first, it’s unnerving and you sort of wonder if you’re doing something wrong and then you realize. Nope. You’re just not in Chicago anymore. The street signs are kinda vague, and for the most part include arrows pointing in non-specific directions. I’m guessing this is because nothing is so urgent around here that you can’t afford a few extra minutes to get lost and turn yourself around.
Anyway, the town clerk typed out our license on a typewriter, despite having a computer, and handled answering phones, people voting, folks picking up dog licenses, all at the same time. Folks came in and congratulated us as soon as they heard why we were there, and one couple could not have been more thrilled for us. They shouted at people passing by the office, calling them over, introducing us, announcing our wedding tomorrow. An older gentleman with a cane, wearing a Smith & Wesson cap told the following joke:
“Do you know what they call a bachelor? A man who hasn’t made the same mistake once.”
He told us he was “voting for Palin” because he fell in love with her as soon as he saw her. Scott remarked that he didn’t say he was voting for McCain. Heh.
We left really happy, and drove to the nearby town, where our justice of the peace owns the town general store, and met up with him to go over tomorrow’s ceremony. He made us sandwiches – really amazing, delicious, fresh sandwiches – from his store’s deli and we paid for them and headed back to the B&B.
Getting married here feels more and more right with each passing hour.