Once More into the Abyss
Mark, founding member of the Old Crow Book Club, would not qualify for housing unless he had proper Oregon identification. Six months or so ago, his expired driver's license had been stolen. He had no paperwork to prove who he was. We had to visit a DMV office to procure the ID. I looked online about how to pull it all off and the potential for success seemed slightly less than Republican members of Congress having a collective epiphany that they actually wanted to govern.
Jacob from the Old Crow Book Club said he'd gone downtown and survived the abyss and come away with a new ID in less than an hour. He volunteered to lead the way.
Okay, I said, we are going downtown.
That is happening this very morning. The day before I found Mark and presented him with a Western shirt from my collection. I wanted him looking sharp for our adventure. I told him I never wore it anymore because a fabulous girlfriend from more than a decade ago had given it to me and then dumped me for some dude not long thereafter. I was more than ready to part with this cowboy shirt.
I also gave Mark a fresh shirt for Jacob. Joining us on the mission was Kate, Mark the Matchmaker's match for me.
We were leaving at ten in the morning. Whatever happened, we would celebrate or commiserate by having lunch together.
I was going to wear a blazer and had my phony Billy Joe Meeker business card right out of the Rockford File ready to wield in case things went south. I also had a couple hundred in cold hard cash ready to make a “donation” to help the cause. It's called a campaign contribution in other circles of American life.
I told Mark to be ready for pickup at ten in the morning. I told him to lay off the sauce.