Notarious

Pegs and I had to get something notarized today, which meant that we had to go to the American consulate. When we showed up, the doors were all locked and no one answered the buzzer. Pegs immediately launched into a tirade about why I had waited until now to get the document notarized; why didn't I call ahead of time to make sure they were open; did I know how hard it is to come here with a baby at home; blah blah blah. Finally, a guard came out and told us that the consulate had moved down the street and brusquely told us to get going. Feeling somewhat vindicated, I headed off with Pegs close behind.

We arrived at the new consulate building and were directed towards the security check-in. After being patted down, strip searched and probed for explosives, we were finally admitted to a big waiting room surrounded by teller windows where we took a number from a little ticket machine. The room was pretty crowded, but Pegs and I didn't sweat it. We knew that most of the people were waiting for passports, visas or tax returns; there's a separate line for the notarial services, which historically has always moved pretty fast.

Sure enough, our number was called within five minutes of our arrival. After filling out a form, we were instructed to go to the cashier window to pay the notarial fee. We were told that after we paid the service charge our number would be called again and the notary would stamp our form.

We paid the fee and took our seats, figuring that we would get called again in a few minutes. After fifteen minutes we started to get a bit curious. After thirty minutes we started to get a bit exasperated. After forty-five minutes we started to get a bit annoyed. After an hour we started to get a bit angry. After an hour and fifteen minutes I started to get a bit sleepy and Pegs started to get a bit hungry, but then we went back to being angry. Finally, one hour and forty-five minutes after we had paid our $30 fee, the notary opened his window and started looking at our form. That's when Pegs got a panicked look on her face.

"What's up?" I asked.

"I know that guy from somewhere," Pegs replied. "I think I went to law school with him."

After another long look in his direction, she turned back to me and said, "I think I might have gone on a date with him."

Pause and another look. "Yeah, I think I hooked up with him."

I don't like to think of myself as the jealous type, but I immediately felt an angry surge of bile rising in the back of my throat. When it comes to exes, Pegs has a distinct advantage over me. I dated quite a bit while Pegs and I were friends, and therefore Pegs not only heard about the women I was dating, more often than not she met them at one time or another. Pegs, on the other hand, didn't get out much before we got together, and her romantic exploits before she started working were for the most part limited to summer romances and first dates in law school. For better or worse, this meant that I had been immune from encountering her old flames face to face. Until now.

"You're kidding, right?" I looked at the guy, and I have to say that I wasn't impressed. "You're telling me that we've been waiting in this fucking room for an hour and forty-five minutes because some douche that you went out with once didn't want to end his coffee break?"

"God, this is embarassing," Pegs said. "I hope he doesn't recognize me."

"He's got your passport," I said. "Even if he doesn't recognize your face, 'Panagiota Alexandropoulos' isn't exactly a name that you forget."

"Oh man oh man oh man oh man," whimpered Pegs.

Just then a disembodied voice read out our number and instructed us to go to the notary's window. Pegs sheepishly got up and started shuffling towards the notary, trying as much as possible to keep out of his direct line of sight.

"So, what are we signing today?" asked my wife's former flame in a congenial voice.

I explained what we needed notarized, and he started pulling out all of the necessary stamps.

Just then Pegs' eyes lit up and she looked at me with a big grin on her face. "It's not him!" she exclaimed a little too loudly. "He looks pretty similar, but it's not him! I guess he just has one of those faces, you know? Oh, what a relief!"

I'm not sure if Pegs realized it, but she was standing right in front of the microphone to the notary's window, and it was clear by the way he looked up that he had heard everything she had said. He might not have understood exactly what we were talking about, but I'm pretty certain that he got the gist and wasn't entirely flattered.

In any event, we got our form stamped and headed out, just over two hours after we had arrived. Although I'm glad that I didn't actually have to face down one of Pegs' previous romantic liaisons, I'm not sure which is worse: the thought that even here in Paris I run the risk of bumping into one of Pegs' old beaus, or her not being able to remember whether she's hooked up with random guys we pass in the street.