It’s Thursday! It’s time to share some doors! What did I capture this week? Let’s find out.
I had it all planned. I had some business to do at the Courthouse (nothing bad… I’m on the right side of the law!) and figured I’d take some door shots whilst there. Leave it to me to come home with not one, but two stories! Gather ’round kids. It’s Tara Tale Time!
Picture it: I make my way up red brick-lined streets to the old Courthouse to do my bidness.
Upon entering, two strong men in blue with guns tell me to head up the white marble circular stairs to security. Yes, sir.
At the top of the steps, I’m greeted by a woman just slightly younger than God who asks me to put everything from my pockets and what I’m carrying in this plastic tub. Important note: I forgot where I was going and what awaited me or I would have left most of what I had on me in the car. But nooooooooo. So in the tub goes:
What Was In My Hands
- a manila folder filled with Important Papers
- my purse, including my phone, wallet, Advil, Band-Aids, and other necessities
- my bottle of water
- the three quarters I didn’t put in the meter
What Was In My Pockets
- my tiny bottle of Ginger Ale (don’t ask… I don’t know why I was double-fisting beverages either)
- a $10 bill, which was promptly handed back to me
- my pepper spray
Yes, I went into a courthouse with pepper spray.
“I’ll take that,” she said as she took my teeny tiny protector.
“Will I… get it back?”
“Yes, just come and see me when you’re done.”
I nodded and walked toward my Courthouse destination. While walking away, I looked longingly back at Pinky, my (obviously) pink pepper spray, hoping I’d actually see her again.
Upon reaching my destination a woman in a group of four in cubicles that made one big square asked what I needed. I told her and she came to help me at the counter. I handed her my driver’s license, as ID was required. She gasped and turned back toward the cubicle gals.
“This is Tara (my full name)!” she said, like a 12-year-old would squeal about the Biebs (at least back in the day).
“Oh my goodness!”
My eyebrows went up. The thought bubble over my head would have said: “… I don’t think I have any outstanding tickets… No… and they wouldn’t be excited about that, would they? … … Am I, like, the millionth visitor or something?… WHO ARE THESE WOMEN AND WHY ARE THEY SO EXCITED TO SEE ME?”
The Counter Woman turned to me again. “We’ve been waiting for you.”
OK, this is weird, my face obviously said, so one of the cube gals spoke. “My sister-in-law has the exact same name,” she said, “and I was like, ‘Did she go and become a notary and not tell me?'”
(See, I told you I was at the Courthouse for a good girl reason. It’s not super important Hall Monitor, Bobby Brady, and it’s not quite as prestigious as being Religion Representative for the sixth grade, but still…)
I smiled. My inner alarms stood back down to Is THAT all… oh, good.
“Yeah, I don’t meet people with my name very often, but it has happened,” I said.
“Her middle initial is L, too,” Counter Woman said to Cube Woman.”
“Is her middle name (my middle name), too?” I asked.
“Yep!” Cube Woman said, and they all oohed and aahed some more. My parents simply couldn’t have imagined this moment years ago when naming me, eh?
Anyway, things settled and I signed what was needed. Cube Woman, typing furiously, said she was emailing her sister-in-law to tell her “She was at the Courthouse today,” and laughed.
“Yeah, tell her her Dopplegänger says hello,” I said.
They laughed and I started to walk away. When I said goodbye, one of the four said, “See ya later,” and I thought, look how fast we all became such good friends that you forgot that you’re probably never going to see me again, but hey, that’s just how friendly and awesome we Tara (my full names) are.
Is that the end? Well, this is government so nothing’s that easy. I had to go to another office to complete my notarial bidness in the new Courthouse across the street.
Upon entering the shiny new super tall doors of the fancy Courthouse, I was greeted by police again and, this time, a man, who was probably older than God. I repeated my tub dump of items, except for Pinky, which, as she promised, the security woman returned as I left the first Courthouse. I said to Older Than God, “I have pepper spray and it’s locked and I’m going to hand it to you.” He said OK and took it, then lifted it into the air for all the police and others standing around to see. “Ooh, it’s pink!” “I hear people use those for dogs.” Older Than God pointed me to my next destination and off I went. He gave me Pinky back just like the other guard and my government bidness was done.
After going through these doors, I have a few questions:
- Police nearby is nice, but why are the security people all extremely senior citizens? Perhaps I’m being ageist, but I’m not sure either one of them could have tackled me if the cops didn’t react fast enough.
- Why can’t government get its act together and not require so many steps, in different locations, to do simple things?
- Why are there so many people sitting or, worse, standing around buildings doing NOTHING, or just chatting and laughing with each other, and, more importantly, how the hell do I get one of THOSE jobs?
- Who’s the genius who designed this new building to have an automatic first set of sliding doors followed by a second set you HAVE TO PULL OPEN? THAT is government at its best, my friends.
So yes, I am now a notary. I’m a super trusted integritudinous (not a word, but I SAY IT’S NOW A WORD!) person. You think that’s good, you should see my credit score. I wonder if Cube Girl’s Tara is just as awesome…
… … Random photo of paper clips found on the steps of the new courthouse… … …