Monday, November 2, 2015

Mama Goes to Court

     Nearly two months ago, if you recall, two friends and myself went on a road trip to New Jersey to meet my cousin in person, and, lay on the beach for two glorious days.
     On the way back from New Jersey, approximately 40 minutes from home, I ended up with a speeding ticket. It is what it is. The nice officer advised me to write a nice letter to the DA and see what I could do about getting it reduced, at the very least. So, I did.
     With only a few days remaining before my traffic court date, I received a packet that included my letter to the DA, and several papers that advised me to send the enclosed application for a Defensive Driving class and a money order for the required amount, and, the ticket would essentially go away. I was absolutely good with that.
     The packet never indicated, however, if I still needed to go to court for the ticket. No one seemed to know, either.
     The day before my court date, I finally called the town clerk for the town the ticket was in. A very nice, although hard of hearing lady brightly told me to just come on in, as, the court clerk, the judge, and probably the Assistant DA herself, would be at the Court House at 5:30 that very evening, and I could ask them directly with no problem.
     Out into the pouring rain I went, with Bearded Man tagging along, and the 40 minute trip to the Court House in question commenced.
     I had never actually gone thru the town we were in, but, I had heard about it. The rumors indicated that it was a beautiful little place that looked like it was right out of a Dicken's picture at Christmas. It did not disappoint, either.


     We drove around a large traffic circle, and pulled up near a large white building that indicated it housed the Town Hall, Court House, Town Clerk, Court Clerk, Judge and the Police Station. The large front door was opened via a lift latch,  into a long, dark, cluttered hallway, painted in gray. There was a handful of unhappy looking people in the hallway, sitting nervously, pacing, and occasionally whispering to people they were with.


     "Ummmm." I whispered loudly, "I need to ask a question about a traffic ticket. Does anybody know where to go for that?"


     "I think you can ask the judge, but, he's in there with people." said one helpful young man. "You can probably just go in and wait till he's done."


     "No. No, that's okay. I will just wait here." I whispered again, taking a seat on a folding chair.


There was a few minutes of silence, as we listened to the pouring rain, while we all sat quietly in this long, dark, dismal gray hallway, with the large door to the court room looming in front of us.


     'Jasin!"


     "What?"


     "This totally reminds me of that scene in the Disney Robin Hood movie with the fox and the bear. You know, that part where the entire town is in the prison, and it's raining out?"


     "Shhhh!"


     "Well. It's not very hospitable." I announced. At which everyone looked up and just stared at me incredulously. "Well, it ISN'T."


     After about 30 minutes, someone mentioned that the Town Clerk was right down the hallway, so, I tiptoed down the hallway to find her. She was buried in an office toward the end. An elderly lady, hard of hearing who took a few moments to process what I was saying. "Oh! yes! I did speak to you. I forgot when I talked to  you that tonight is attorney night for bigger things. You aren't going to be able to talk to the judge tonight. And I forgot that the court clerk is off today, and a temp is here. And I forgot that the DA won't be here tonight, either. That was LAST week!"


     So, with well wishes to the miserable people in the hallway, we left.


     The next day produced more rain, a hectic morning, and forgetting to grab Court Appropriate clothing for after work. I decided I would just have to wing it in scrubs, and, headed that way as soon as I left work. I arrived approximately 47 seconds before the judge did. And noted that, we were the only two people at the  Court House/ Police station/ Town Hall etc.
I was awkwardly uncomfortable, as I decided what to do. Do I give him a few minutes to settle in? Do I follow him in? Is it appropriate to try to talk to him before traffic court begins? Would I get in MORE trouble? What to do, what to do?


     Even though I looked like a wrung out mess, I gamely applied lip gloss, because clearly, that would make my scrubs and under eye puffy dark circles and frazzled hair go away, and went in after thinking about if for five minutes.


     I pulled the metal latch up on the massive door, and it creaked open ominously. Tiptoeing in, it closed behind me with a bang echoing off the long, dark hallway walls. The rain continued outside, and the only light in the building poured out from the partially open door to the Court Room. With a deep breath, I tapped on the door, and pushed it open a little more. It swung in with an eerie creak in the otherwise silent building. With a gulp, I pasted a smile on, and called "Hello?"

     The judge looked up, and said "Yes? Come in."


     The floor boards squeaked with every single step, as I walked across the room, to stand in front of the judge's bench. Looking up at him, I introduced myself, and said I had a question.


     "I would like to help you, but, my computer's acting up and it just says 'not responding'. I can't do a thing with it."


     'Ummm. Well, Your Honor, try hitting 'control alt delete' at the same time, and bring up the task manager. Then, end it, and try to access it again after you close out of the task manager. Sir."


     With a doubtful look, he attempted it. And it worked. So, I began my story again.


     "WAIT! WHAT did you say? You said you WROTE to the DA already? Where did you learn to do that? Did you look it up on that Internet? I hate that Internet! Everybody thinks what they see is what they are supposed to do! You looked it up on the Internet, didn't you?"


     "No Sir! The officer that pulled me over told me to!"


     "He did? How did HE know to do that?"


     "I don't know, but he seemed very nice. He really was a nice guy....."
     "Well. Normally, you come to court, plead not guilty, and THEN talk to the DA to try to get it reduced to traffic school. Since you have bypassed the court all together, and already hashed a deal with the DA, I will print  you a letter telling you that you have 30 days to get a date for traffic school and write me a nice letter telling me you will go."
     "Okay, thank  you so much for seeing me early! I really appreciate it."
     "No problem. *SIGH* I just am not feeling it tonight. I just can't seem to get any energy up to be here. I am tired and just don't want to be here. Ever have those days? Ah well. I suppose I'll get thru it." remarked the judge.
     "I understand completely, sir."


And just like that, court was over.


     Also of note lately, I have decided that vanity will be the grease on my slide to hell. That, and, my abysmal attempts at Sunday School teaching.


     My hair. The bane of my existence. It just does not want to behave. It looks ridiculous most of the time. So, most of the time, it is pulled back into a clip and I try to ignore mirrors and my picture on the constant video monitors I am on at work. I just can't look at it.
     Also, headaches. Currently, my head has hurt for more than a month. We're used to it; it happens. We deal with it, and, eventually, after awhile, they become somewhat bearable again. Meanwhile though, they tend to make life miserable while situated indefinitely in my head.
     I went to the eye doctor, to make sure it wasn't my eyes. 8.5 hours daily in front of a computer might be a trigger, right? The eye doctor sympathetically told me my eyes haven't changed, but, computer fatigue is a definite problem. There is really nothing to be done about it.
     I tried teas and migraine medication and heat and cold and wondered if my insurance covered neck massages. Nothing. I thought, maybe the clip that is constantly in my hair, pulling it back might be a trigger. Also, my hair is dreadful most of the time. Spur of the moment, I headed to my sister's hair salon, and begged her to fix it.
     2.5 hours and lots of laughs later, my hair was done. Shorter, colored, styled and my eyebrows done for good measure. I loved it. It was the best my hair had looked in literally years.


      Bearded Man HATED it. He actually told me my headache the next morning was my hair, mourning it's loss. It was not a good subject in my household. We just do not talk about it now. Also, it did not fix my headaches.


     One last note here... This past weekend I once again set up shop on the front porch, to hand out Halloween candy. I LOVE sitting on the porch steps and handing out candy. And, Bearded Man loves to take the kids all over town. He has an entire route mapped out that includes people that will give him beer, and where all the full sized candy bars are located.
     I filled a huge bucket full of candy, and hoped I would have enough. I love seeing all the kids in their costumes and chatting with people I know. Turbo was stationed in the window the entire time, and he was a big hit with the crowds.
     I am noticing a trend, though, of adults trick or treating. I think, if you are old enough to drink legally or, even vote, you are probably too old.
     If you are old enough to wear costumes better suited to a Gentleman's Club, once again, you are too old.
     If you have a new born baby, or, one that is under 6 months old, you do not need to be out collecting candy.
     If you are with your children, and you are trick or treating too, because "Moms need candy too!" you should know better.
     If you are a married couple with no children, you really should not be collecting candy, OR making major life decisions like marriage, because clearly you are not mature enough.
     If you are an adult, and you are rude to myself or the little kids who are out, you need to know, that the candy in my bucket that I hate, will be what you get. That includes chocolate tootsie pops and Dots.
     And that is all I have to say about that. I used to think I would grow up to be one of those nice old ladies that baked cookies for the grandkids and neighbor children. I think I will unfortunately end up an old lady that is all judgmental and yells at people that aggravate me. I kinda can't wait.
    

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