Social Insecurity Office

The wedding was May 13, but between the honeymoon and post-honeymoon unpacking and a business trip to Colorado, here we are a month later and I hadn't changed my name yet. I got home from the meeting in Colorado absolutely exhausted. The three of us went all agreed that if none of us showed up Monday morning at work, no one would even notice we were back.

After lolling in bed for as long as I could tolerate the incessant yipping of next door's hideously untrained poodle, I got up, read some news and made a brief appearance in the lab to grow some bacteria for use tomorrow. Then, it was off to the Gene Snyder Courthouse so I could put this whole name change thing into motion.

I think I need to recreate the whole experience for you to appreciate it here.

First, the "tightened" security at the downtown Louisville federal courthouse. I showed my driver's license to the very bored looking security guard. Not really sure why they needed photo ID. I mean, they didn't write my name down or anything. Did they just want to see that I could claim to be someone?? "Well we don't know who carried the bomb inside, but there were five people that came in this hour. Two of them were from Indiana, two from Kentucky and one had a state issued ID. Find one of them, and you've got your guy."

I put my purse on the X-ray scanner that they keep for purely decorative purposes. The man didn't even look at the screen. A second bored looking security guard vaguely glanced up as I walked through a metal detector.

In the Social Security office, there was yet another security guard. This one was at a desk with such a high barrier I don't even think she could see the room. You have to go to this huge computer terminal and push a number to say why you're there and then it spits out a reciept with an unreadable number that you will have to guess at to determine when it is your turn.

Then came the interminable waiting. As I had parked at a meter witha 2-hour limit, all the while, I was studying my watch trying to decide how high my risk of a parking ticket was climbing. I didn't dare leave the building to feed the meter, I might miss my turn. And if you think Motor Vehicle is tough, these folks don't play around.

I saw every imaginable character in this tiny waiting room.

There was a woman about my age with another, somewhat older woman, two small boys (maybe 5 and 7) and a little girl (3ish). In the course of 30 minutes, I saw her raise her hand at least once to whack or threaten to whack each child. Let's guess how these kids will turn out.

Next to me was a couple that had to be doing a name change. They couldn't keep their hands to themselves and the guy kept trying to make small talk with a seven year old girl as if to prove what a wonderful father he would make.

The aforementioned seven-year old girl who carried a tiny blue purse that appeared to be some sort of magical Mary Poppins bag that had a million things in it. Including a rubber keychain of Sponge Bob No-Pants.

A walking stereotype of a biker dude complete with handle bar mustache, do rag, beer gut and Harley Davidson T-shirt.

Four 19-20 year old guys who made a ton of noise, mocked every name that was called, were to loud to hear when their number was called and had to be called three times. Then, it turned out only one of them was there for a reason. Apparently, his three buddies were moral support.

A vaguely drunken looking man who slept across four chairs until the third time his number was called at which point he staggered to the window and had the woman check his number a half dozen times. As he was leaving he muttered something about "I'm a metro councilman. Leash-t I was till I done got locked up..."

There were more, but they were kind of just variations on a theme. Oh...the actual name change took like two minutes. The woman did, however seem baffled by whyever could I possibly want to keep my own name in addition to his...