It's got it all.
It's clean, well lit, has plenty of seats and benches. It is equipped with a working bathroom, and comes complete with a whole slew of cameras. These devices are constantly taking notes on your every move in real time. But they are also ready to take that perfect still shot. The close-up. The money shot. The school photo, if you will.
But lets not get ahead of ourselves.
In fact, let's get behind about twenty people.
I had gotten this far, only after riding my bike to the bank downtown and having a special document notarized. Now, I know I'm kind of weird, but there is something about getting a paper officially stamped with a raised seal that really gets me off. I don't know what it says about me, really, but I like it.
After that fun detail, I sped on down to the bus station and forked over the $14, once again, for the round trip to Springfield.
I got there at 10a.m., and had to wait in the same area as yesterday to see the same dour man with the same huge barrel of pretzel rods.
He looked over my newly notarized paperwork and made copies of the lease info I had brought from the interlock device store.
Just to prevent me from feeling like it was all going too easily, my guy stopped his typing, ceased his gum chewing, and looked me straight in the eyes.
"What's this here ... says something about you cheating on something ... you know anything about ... oh, never mind ... fu*&in' computers."
Wha ... ?????
Umm ... shake it off kid ... just shake it off ... .
So anyway, my heart is beating a million miles an hour and I'm nervously tapping my feet. He tries to print out my paperwork but, of course, the printer is out of paper. This situation is easily remedied but, like I said, the fates are keeping me on my toes.
He tells me I can now go out to the large waiting area and take a number and wait to pay my reinstatement fee and get my license.
I have never, in my life, been so happy to take a number-- no matter how far behind I may have been-- to wait in a stuffy, crowded municipal building.
And so, that brings us up to speed.
So next, I get to sit and wait for B268 to get called. It takes about 25 minutes. And, of course, when it does, ol' weirdo Fred has to have his camera ready and waiting. I don't care. This is important stuff. This is my life. This is entertainment.
This is where I almost pee my pants right there on the shiny green floor.
The rest all happens in a blur. The teller is a cute blonde who laughs discretely as I bumble and fumble with all my stuff trying to get the right documents out of my bag. I write her the check. She takes it and I'm almost home free.
She asks if I want to keep the same picture I had on my previous license.
And I say, absolutely not.
Because I don't really know that guy in my old license photo anymore. Truth be told, he didn't look half bad. But this new guy, the guy with the charm, and the humility, and the clarity, well he's got it going on. And that's the long and short of it.
Thank you Registrar, Anne L. Collins, you have a lovely and important signature. Thank you Atty. David Mintz. Thank you Judge Goggins. Thank you Aunt Lynda, Mom, Paul Brown, Bob, Diane, The Chorus, Steve, Bushy, Bow, and Scott. This is only the beginning of the next part of my journey. I know that I couldn't have gotten this far without all your love, support, understanding, faith and familiarity with the legal system. And thank you to all who have read this ongoing saga and gotten enough out of it to check back in periodically. There's plenty more to come. I just have to wake up everyday, and it writes itself.
Oh yeah, and before I left the registry and jumped in the air for joy, I checked the bulletin board for wanted fugitives like I tend to do at times and places like these.
Check this guy out. He's listed as a danger to himself and others. Wanted only for reference in case of threats to the current stability of his otherwise well balanced and fulfilling life:
Man, I wouldn't want to be that guy.
Thanks for reading.