lobsterchick's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Ah, The Legal System Ha ha ha ha court. Court court court. I knew you wouldn't be easy, but I didn't realize that you, like all things in my life, would not actually happen. Seriously. Everything in my life I've ever been anxious about ends up being completely different from how I thought it would be and not exactly happening. I started out at 3:00. I was to get to DS's at 3:30, which I did, on the dot. I pulled up, did a superrific parallel parking job, and noticed that DS was approaching the curb. I popped out of my just-parallel-parked-amazingly car, and he said, "We have to take your car. I don't think you can even fit in mine, it's such a mess." And then my head exploded. I had explained to him, in great detail, at least five times, that I would pick him up, to be waiting in the lobby for me, and that he would drive from there. After the first time, when I told him we'd take his car, I didn't say it again. Message received, right? Naaaay. So we screamed in the street for a couple of minutes like the white trash I was about to commit myself to being, before getting on our way, DS driving my car. If you ever, for some reason, have to be in downtown St. Louis for any reason other than a baseball, football, or hockey game, have someone go with you, drop you off, and drive around. Because there is no parking. Anywhere. So this is why I had to drag him along. Just in case you were wondering. So we get in the car, and DS finally asks why it matters whose car he drives. "I don't especially want you driving my car," I answered, "since your license is suspended." Cue the gasping for air. "Wha-? How did you-? What are you-? How do you know that?" "I read that letter in your car." "Hmph." "Just don't let my car get taken to the impound lot." Stony silence, which I started filling by talking to my car, telling it that if I never saw it again, I still loved it. Followed by more silence. So we get to the court house, and I beat it up the steps, with 10 minutes to spare. My purse goes through the conveyor belt and I go through the metal detector. I look at the directory on the wall, and none of the rooms listed appear on my ticket. I turned around, with what I can only imagine was a comically worried look on my face, and asked the cop at the desk for help. He was super nice, and proceeded to tell me that I was in the wrong building. The comically worried look must have gotten 500 times more intense, because he laughed. "Don't worry about it, it's just a traffic ticket." That actually made me feel a little better, and I listened intently to his directions. I went outside and stood on the curb, looking up and down the block for my car, hoping to God it wasn't in an impound lot. A few minutes later, DS came strolling up. Lo and behold, he had found the one parking spot in the city and poured an obscene amount of change in it for some lucky stiff to happen upon, because we had to haul ass to the other courthouse. I made it there, jumped from the car, went in, asked directions from a super nice guy, went upstairs, through another metal detector, asked the nice attendant there where I needed to be, and she pointed right behind her. All the other people with court times at 4 were waiting, even though it was a little after. Finally, a bitchy clerk came out, herded us down to another courtroom, and told us to wait until she called us. So we did, but she did not call us. Instead, the attendant who had helped me and another clerk split up the court cases and started calling us up. I was the second person to be called, and the woman from the metal detector pleasantly told me that my courtroom was occupied with a trial that was taking longer than expected, so my new court date is June 9. And then my head exploded again. 10:42 PM - 28 April 2004 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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