Okay, I didn't watch the show "Cops", but I do recall someone I know singing the theme as she snipped blooming forsythia from a public hedge for a flower arrangement. Hey, even Martha Stewart went to jail.
So, today, I tried my hand at "court". The week before last, as I reached the top of a hill, a guy in a little blue car, not paying any attention, crossed the center line and clipped my horse trailer. Horse and I were fine, and I though I was irritated with the driver for causing damage to my trailer. Then I got cited. On the statement from a driver behind the blue car that I was not on my side of the road. Now, more than irritated. Thus I enter a pretty murky realm.
Maybe I should preface this by saying that even though a medical text makes perfect sense in my brain, one sentence of tax code makes my eyes glaze over and dream of butter.
So, perhaps it isn't quite as inexplicable as it seems what it means to have a ticket you would like to contest.
The officer did explain that I needed to either pay the fine, or appear at the courthouse at 9 am today. Then, he led me to believe we would all share our stories, and then something would be decided, (probably I end up paying anyway and just get stuffed.)
So, this I did. Dropped Youngest off at a dear neighbor's house early, so I could find the Courthouse and parking and be on time...all of which I managed, albeit driving around the block three times trying to figure out which building I was to enter, and where in the world it was legal to park. Probably keep people coming back to court to pay the fine from the parking ticket given them while they were in court paying the parking ticket given them while they were in the court......
The Courthouse is a wonderful, stone, musty building reminiscent of elementary school. Traffic court, a sign read, was on the second floor. Hmm. I'll try that. So, up a wide marble stair to a few fellows with a hastily post 9/11 erected metal detector. I talked them into letting me keep my tea by bribing them with organic lollipops. I suppose that should have made me fear for my safety, but I was glad to still have my tea.
I sat and after a while noticed that everyone that came up the stairs and through the detector were then directed through a door marked "Clerk of Courts". I had not been directed, this because the metal guys thought I was a lawyer. Something I didn't try too hard to correct, as the tea was getting a pass. No, I was not in a suit. But I was equally not in an OSU tee and flip flops, so I forgave them for their mistake. A lady in that office took my traffic ticket and told me to sit down outside and they'd call me. Okay. Back to my seat. More swiftly than I expected my name was called, and a tidy man in a salt and pepper tweed sportcoat handed me a yellow form, asked me to read it and sign it. This form is legalspeak. Yuck. Also full of scary things like "you have a right to bail" and "you have a right to be thrown in jail forever if you sign this paper" Or somesuch. I read, I signed. All the while the man in the sportcoat standing next to me, looking at the top of my head. A bit disconcerting, but my concert had left when I got to the words "felony" and "sucker".
When finished I pushed it back to him and he looked at me and said "You are one of the few people that comes through here that ever reads the paper." Oh, dear. Next, I waived my right to a "speedy trial" on the advice of the Sportcoat fellow, who advised me that if I stuck with the speedy one, it doesn't matter what time they give me that's my time. No changing, no wiggle room. Otherwise, I can more or less name my day of the week, and that would be accommodated.
Time to readjust my thinking of how this would go. A Trial? So, I'm guessing they aren't going to hear my side of the story this morning. I'm guessing I'll have another chance to try and get my tea into court. I'm guessing I'm right.
So, Sportcoat tells me to sit, they'll call me again and give me a date.
I sit.
Another fellow comes out a bit later, also in natty attire, bearded and calls my name. Impatient this one. He's calling it over and over as I walk towards him. "HERE!" I say- back in elementary again.
He just hands me the sheet of paper and turns to go.
"Wait!" I say. "Do I just come back here on this date?"
"Yes, just come and find one of the bailiffs and we'll call you."
Um, okay. Bailiff. That was the tall one with the uniform in "Night Court". Holds the Bible, makes you swear. Jeez...now I know why people just pay the fine and wash their hands of the whole mess.
I shall continue to stumble through the system, likely end up wishing I had just paid the fine and stayed bitter.
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