I was greeted by a portly clerk, sporting blue blocker sunglasses, a teeshirt advertising a local cruise/poker run, and a visor covered in what appeared to be pins from some Olympic event of the past century.
The clerk only took a few minutes of scrutinizing my new Oklahoma driver's license before asking me which name was my first name.
Several humorous anecdotes later, I had my license to kill -- fish. I was off.
Or so I thought.
The clerk continued to talk as I made my way for the heavy glass paned door...
Nothing more I can add to my entry other than my favorite movie reference to the "Japanese Marinade of the gods" in the Woody Allen film, What's Up, Tiger Lily?