“Raise your right hands.”
Grinning nervously at each other, my fiancé and I complied.
“Do you swear that all of the information that you are providing is correct?”
“Yes,” we chimed.
We were in the courthouse in Annapolis, MD, signing up for our marriage license. After collecting all of our pertinent information, including whether or not we were relatives, our licenser printed off a copy and gave it to us to look over for errors.
Right away, I spotted a big one: The people named on that certificate were not exactly us.
“Did we get new identities too?” I asked.
After a flustered few moments in which it was ascertained that there had been a technical glitch that caused the computer to print out the wrong certificate, we were back on track and filling out the application yet again. This time, we were the ones listed on the print-out, our identities fully restored. Fiancé tucked our certificate safely into his coat, and we dashed back into the rain-filled world.
“Hey, guess what?” he asked me as we stomped through puddles on the way to his car.
“We’re getting married!”
May 26 can’t come soon enough.