Eight Days

I was a single man in 1990 for eight whole days.

Yep, the first wife’s bad decision making led to our divorce on Thursday, October 18^th. Not that I place all the blame on her for our divorce – I generally give me all the credit on the perfect escape. The Betty decided that she wanted to be Mrs. Watson earlier that summer so my plan was to make that happen as quickly as possible. Since I fell in love with her one day watching her push a shopping cart; that was that – she was going to marry me as soon as I could pull it off.

I was driving down McArthur Boulevard in Irving Texas when wife number one calls me with the news that the judge had signed off on our final papers and that I was a free man. What a weird feeling that was. So, after thinking about that for a couple minutes at the next red light I called Betty and told her the news. She said we should get married right away and so I told her, “let’s go tomorrow and get our marriage license.”

I guess my Betty called in sick or something since we both could take off Friday afternoon and go hunting for a marriage license. Now rocking on nearly 24 hours as a single man, I figured that the best way to go hunting is with a cooler full of 12 Natural light beers. So, I took about 1/5^th of the finest discount beers I had out of the fridge and loaded up the car with the Betty and the Beer. So, the B & B and me headed to the nearest county office (outside of Tarrant county where my divorce was just finalized, or Dallas county where we both lived) to get our marriage license, and that was in Denton, Texas.

I think it was only about a two beer trip to downtown Denton and we arrived in style wearing our best blue jeans to go visit with the licensing department. I had called ahead and knew exactly where we were going and found out that no appointment was necessary. We showed up and were given the form to fill out about names, addresses, whether or not you were a felon and questions like that. But, one question asked if either of you were married or had been married within the last 30 days….uh, oh. Well, shoot - here we both were all dressed in our nice jeans and all so I put down “no.” Then came time for the interview. The nice lady went through all our answers and everything was going fine until that question came up and then I guess one of us kind of laughed or something. Well, it was kind of funny since I hadn’t been single yet for one whole day at that point! Denton County’s finest government help didn’t think that was funny at all. I told her to “ask us again.” Then, she went on and on about how this was all official business and that we would just have to come back in 29 days. Aw, man – BUSTED!

Hell, here we were 35 miles from home and nothing to show for it but a bladder full of beer. We needed a plan. So, I went to the closest 7-11 and asked to borrow a Texas map to see where the next closest county seat was. Good news! Wise County courthouse in Decatur, Texas was only 28 miles away and we still had eight beers left in the playmate.

Now, Decatur has more than one stop light in town but this isn’t exactly the kind of place strangers just drive by the courthouse and decide to get married like on the strip in Las Vegas. “Yep (spit) we wuz driving along US-380 and done decided to git hitched rat now.) So, after learning our lesson in Denton we did some planning and both agreed to not laugh if this lady asked about that 30 day thing! So, we pop in the door and THE lady in the office asked if she could be of some help. I explained that we wanted to get married and needed a license. I even explained that it was a great day for a drive and that we picked Decatur to get our license - and she was real pleased to oblige us. This time we passed all the questions, paid our $22.00 cash for the license and went on out to celebrate with another a couple more cold beers and head on back to Irving.

Texas law requires a 72 hour waiting period after you get a license to actually get married. We talked about it and decided, “who wants to get married on a Monday?” So we picked the next Friday. We didn’t tell anybody we were getting married, and neither of us wanted a fancy wedding so we picked Judge Ovard in Irving, TX – the county Justice of the Peace, to marry us. Betty called and made us an appointment during lunch as we both went to work that morning.

Betty wore a real pretty cream color dress to work that day, but with her office job I’m sure no one said anything about it. Back then, I wore a business suit every day so we were all set and ready to go. I pick her up at home with the cooler full of beers and off we go!

You have to have a witness to get married so we picked Judge Ovard’s secretary, who said she “does it all the time.” You know that part in the wedding when they ask, “does anyone know of any reason why these two people can’t be married?” Well, right about then, Judge Ovard’s door opens! We all started laughing, and then I quickly thought about that 30 day thing, oh, no – busted again! But, it was just some one needing the Judge to sign something and he told them he was “kind of busy” and they shut the door. So, we said our “I do’s” and the Betty was officially, Mrs. Mark Watson!

Needing somewhere to go celebrate our big day, we knew of no better place to go in Dallas other than “the Cowboy Saloon” off of Northwest Highway and loop 12. So, we hop in the car and pop the top of a cool Natural Light and head over to the beer joint. This is the kind of place that smoke POURS out from under the door and the whole place reeks of alcohol – I mean THE perfect place to spend your wedding day! So, we drink some beers, play some pool and reflect on what a great life we have planned ahead of us.

The Betty and me have had a lot of road trips since then - and I am still in love with my best friend. I’ll always remember those first eight days that started a great life together.