52. It's like Disneyland, but not.

Once Nook and I had our paperwork from our past to hand, it was time to get the final, and arguably, second most important piece of paper of our lives.  Our marriage license.  We had to see if all the bits and pieces we collected would be enough to satisfy the harsh bureaucrats in Vegas (hah). After our trip to Tiffanys, we hopped in a taxi and told the driver where we wanted to go.  I'm pretty sure it wasn't his first time taking people on this route, and I'm certain it wasn't the first time he had two giddy people in his taxi babbling on about getting married.  He obviously didn't know the entirety of our story, or I am sure he would have been far more impressed.

Whilst the marriage license office isn't 24 hours in Las Vegas, it probably could be.  When we arrived in the early Saturday morning, we were most definitely not the first to have this cunning plan.  We walked up the steps, and really weren't sure what to expect once we opened the door.

Bureaucratic Disneyland.  A back-and-forth queue of colourful and interesting people looking to get their vital piece of paper to permit their plans to move forward.  I'd say there were a good 20 or more couples ahead of us, and about four windows open with staff busily checking documents, stamping things, and (of course) collecting fees.

There were people who were in wedding clothes, there were a few who had a hint of a costume, a few (too many) who brought children along.  A lot of smiles, a few frowns as people realised they didn't have everything in order.

Nook and I asked each other if we were nervous several times, and in all frankness, no, we weren't.  We were taking it all in.  Smiling.  Hugging.  We knew this was for us, and right.  We had all our paperwork, we kept re-checking it, and it was just a matter of waiting.  Waiting our turn to receive a piece of paper which we could use to get another, far more important, piece of paper.  A paper domino, waiting to fall.

Eventually, about an hour after our arrival, it was our turn.

Final window on the row of four.  I explained what we wanted, had cash, had all the paperwork their website mentioned, and handed it over in pretty much the order I figured they'd need it.

We filled out a brief form, making sure they had all the right details.

She looked things over.

And over again.

And looked at our IDs.

And at the paperwork.

And smiled.  Grabbed her Mighty Stamp, and processed.  The engine of bureaucracy has determined that Nook and Chair may marry, the stamps said.

Eventually she handed over a license to marry to us, explained it was only good for a certain amount of time, and said that we'd get the final marriage certificate with appropriate stamps a few weeks after Doing the Deed.

We were overjoyed.  There was no more paperwork before us, blocking us.  We left the building on a bit of a cloud of happiness, and realised we had an important appointment to get to -- meeting Nook's mother for lunch.

Curiously, there weren't any taxis waiting around, so we had to wait a bit for one to finish dropping someone off, claim that for ourselves, and head off to our lunch.

We held hands.  Smiled.  One more step on the path.