Ahh, where were we? Olivia had just arrived, we finished getting ready, and we were off.
-I had Garrett wait in the bathroom while I put my dress on since he’d never seen it and I wanted to have that moment. Then, I tried to have him help me bustle it but the hook was all but invisible and I ended up taking the dress off, finding the bustle, and putting it back on. I was glad I practiced tying the sash before we got there, I was able to get a decent bow by myself and I really like the look of the sash.-
(all photos in this entry from olivia leigh photographie)
It was only about 5 blocks to the City Hall so we figured we would walk and get some pictures along the way. Little did I know one of my shoes was prone to slide off my foot (When I first got the shoes they were too tight but apparently my attempts at wearing them in had some negative side effects, and I need to buy some kind of inserts before our reception), so I was slow and annoyed.
I really wanted to walk there, though, so it wasn’t until Garrett was attacked by a homeless man that we decided we should take a taxi. Yes, attacked by a homeless man. (I apologize for the lack of photographs, but I’m sure you’ll understand). He grabbed at Garrett’s neck, as if he was choking him, acted as if he was stabbing him in the neck, and shoved him into the street. And a cop was only a few feet away doing nothing. As Garrett’s friend Matt said while we were there: “San Francisco is not for the faint of heart.” That aspect of the day was really frustrating, we were waiting to cross a crosswalk and couldn’t really get away from the situation.
We made it to the City Hall in the taxi and made our way the the clerk’s office. We filled out our paperwork and brought it back up to the desk. We had to show our IDs, so I went first, a little nervous because I’d secretly worried that we were supposed to have brought our birth certificates or something. But the notice on the wall made me feel better, it just had to be a government issued ID. Check. Then Garrett. After looking over his the girl behind the counter (probably early 20s like us), said “Your license is expired.”
Hahaha, April Fool’s, right? I figured I must be having more nightmares. This made no sense whatsoever. I looked at his license, and sure enough it said 7-8-09 and it was 8-13-09. A little over a month. I pleaded. He had no idea his license had expired. Mine was from NC and didn’t expire until 2011, so I hadn’t even considered that his would’ve been. His mom hadn’t mentioned a notice that his license was expiring, and I knew she would’ve. I could’ve kicked myself for not suggesting we bring our passports along. We had come all the way from Alabama and now we couldn’t get married?
The girl asked her supervisor and he refused us, then asked his supervisor, a woman I tried to reason with. I said “Do you make copies of the IDs?” “No,” she answered. “Okay, then what is the problem?” She had us wait outside while she thought about it. I’m surprised I didn’t cry but I wasn’t going to mess up my makeup and I was still hopeful. Garrett was very unhappy but I told him, it wasn’t his fault. A few people have commented that they should’ve never let him on the plane, but I’m not really surprised. Only people with the power to or not to marry you are Nazis about such things, really. As if there was a doubt that the ID was real and that it was him. I was mad at Alabama for having licenses that expire so quickly, for not notifying him it had expired, and at the clerk’s office for not bending on it.
The result? Up next.