Like a Fish Out of Water

My day started out with events spilling over from last night.

The kids unloaded groceries, and left the lift-gate open on my van.
When I opened the garage, the lift-gate of the van got wedged in the garage door.
Rut-roh.

So I pulled the van forward the inch that I could, and that was enough to un-wedge it.

Then I headed off to COURT.

COURT, PEOPLE!

This is for my traffic ticket. I was hoping to get a reduction of some sort.

I am a totally anxiety ridden person when it comes to crap like this.
I can't get it out of my mind, until it is over with.
The idea of going to court has been swirling around in my head for two weeks straight, like a living entity. I forget about it for a minute, but it lurks there, clawing its way to the front of my thoughts.

In the shower, I go over court dialog.
While I am folding laundry.
When I am trying to enjoy dinner.
It is worse in bed, at night, when I replay what could happen in court, what I should say, what I should wear, and for the love of all that is holy, remember to call the judge "your Honor."
I haven't been sleeping.
And my anxiety makes me sweat.
I have permanent taco-pits.

I would make the crappiest criminal.

I left my house a whole hour before I needed to be in court.
I also have anxiety about finding new places, even with Mapquest.

Taco pit Thursday.

I arrived at the building, and read a book in the parking lot for a bit. I didn't want to go in 45 minutes early.
Let's be honest.
I have no idea what I read out in the car.
Words.
But inside I was a mess and couldn't process the words.
Finally I went in.
I went through a metal detector, and went back into a waiting room.
It was full of Mexicans.
I am not sure how to say that politically correct, and the Mexican thing makes more sense in a minute.
(Also Happy Cinco de Mayo!)

I asked if I was in the right place, and recited the address.
Uh, no.
I was in Immigration Violation Court.
So I got new directions to the building I needed and high-tailed it out of there.

By this time, I am nearing my appointment time.
I have now sweated through my jacket.

I find what I think is the building, and rush inside.
It was the right one this time.
There was my name, in black and white on the docket, for anyone to see.
It was kind of embarrassing to see it there, as a defendant with a warrant.
Did I mention my nerves?
Or the cheese disease?
I walked into the courtroom, and clearly there are some frequent fliers.
Very hard looking people.
I had no clue what I was doing.
I felt like I was in Kindergarten again, with no friends, not knowing where to sit, or what to do with my hands.
And I just wanted to be anywhere but THERE.
I watched what all the other people were doing.
I had to fill out a paper on a clipboard, and go hand it to the clerk.
So I did that, and sat there for a bit.

I was praying that my nerves would shut up, and that I would get some help, and that my pits would just stop already.
This guy kept walking into the courtroom with a fat briefcase, and going back out.
He looked official.
I finally got up the nerve to ask him what was going on.
My appointment time had passed, and I was worried I somehow missed the dang thing.

Come to find out, he was some sort of counsel.
He took one look at me, and could see I was ready to come apart at the seams.
He told me to take a deep breath, and sit down.

He was a nice man, in a sea of uncertainty and weirdo's.

He told me to plead "Not Guilty" (But I was guilty!) and set a pre-trial date.
"Then," he said "you can take it to trial, and the judge will most likely dismiss it."
"You just have to be persistent." he said.

Internets, I am a wuss.
And my nerves can't take waiting for a pre-trial, and then possibly a trial!

"What is the best I can expect to have this over with today?" I asked.

"I can talk to the judge for you, and see if he will reduce your charges."
Yes please.
So he did.
Bless his heart.
He did all the talking, while I tried really hard not to cry or lift my arms and expose my tacos.
The judge reduced my ticket to 16 over, not 26.
My fine went from $350 to $165, and the points on my record were way more manageable.
I just had to say "Yes, your Honor." And I even remembered to say "your Honor."

I am grateful for people like that counselor, that go to an intimidating job everyday, see ugly things everyday, but still retain enough sensitivity and compassion to help someone like me.

But wait...the adventure doesn't stop here.

I get into an elevator with two attorneys, and a scruffy heavyset guy that is sweatier than me.
As you can predict, the attorneys get off on one floor, and me and sweaty Eddy are alone in the elevator.
As soon as those doors shut, Eddy turns to me and says "I am a criminal, you know."
What the hell, internets!!
I have read enough Stephen King to know that there are mentally unbalanced folks in the world, and possibly my own town, BUT TRAPPED IN AN ELEVATOR?
I felt like I needed to play nice so he wouldn't be offended and off me with a shiv, so I asked him how things went for him in court.
Oh Moses.
He proceeded to tell me his whole life story, and how he drives a semi-truck, and how he hauls food for humanity, and how could he be a criminal for hauling food for humanity!
And I am wondering if "food for humanity" is code for "disemboweled victims."
I proceed to smile at the ground (NO EYE CONTACT!) and nod my head at appropriate intervals, all the while making my way(DON'T RUN!)to my van...IN AN EMPTY PARKING LOT WITH NO ONE AROUND.
With a psycho.
He pauses to ask me what I was in court for, and I told him a traffic violation.
Then he says to me:
(I can't even make this stuff up.)
"You would do real well in jail."
I snaked past him into my van, and pushed "power lock" like the wind!
I squealed outta there on two wheels.
(But safely under the posted speed limit.)

Internets, this all happened to me before noon.

I am taking a nap.