I fought the law
And the law won. Oh wait – actually, it was ME who won! Yay, me!
On July 16, on my way home after the rare post-birthday indulgence of an iced coffee (decaf), a pedicure (pearly olive green) and a haircut (4 inches off the bottom), I was pulled over by a cop. It was the first time it has ever happened when I had truly no idea at all what I'd done wrong. Turns out I had overlooked a tiny little sign that changed a "must merge left" lane into a "right turn only" lane. Even the cop acknowledged that someone had cut me off while I was trying to merge (causing it to take longer than it really should have) and that there really wasn't nearly enough time for people to get over before the lane changed (only about 200 feet at 30 miles an hour), and that the signage was inadequate, confusing and poorly placed. Nevertheless, it's his job to cite people who break the rules, and I had clearly broken them. So I went home with a ticket.
I was mad and annoyed, but figured, whatever, it can't be more than maybe a hundred bucks – I'll just pay the thing. Imagine my dismay when the citation arrived in the mail with a price tag, including the citation itself plus various assorted fees and traffic school (not to mention the cost of transportation and my valuable time), of over $350. True, I was guilty of the violation. But the way it all happened, I really felt like it wasn't all my fault. For the first time in my life, I decided to go to court.
Traffic court meets only once a week, on Wednesday mornings. To be seen, you have to get there early – the door opens at 8 a.m., but the first person in the line today told me she arrived at 5:45 to secure her place. I had my own ordeal getting there – first procrastinating several weeks until I had the perfect package of annotated Google map photos showing exactly how ridiculous the signs were, plus a few examples of more typical intersections in town (to demonstrate how I came to have such reasonable expectations of traffic signs, which expectations had been violated by the stupidity of the signs on that intersection) – and then suffering the stress of getting up in time to shower, dress as if for a job interview, and get myself out the door by 6 a.m., just in case traffic was bad. It was not, but parking was. I ended up losing my place in line after a nice lady warned me I was likely to get a ticket if I didn't move my car to a different parking lot two blocks away.
At 8 o'clock the office opened and the line started to move. Three hours later I finally had my moment in front of the judge. I feel like I'm skipping a lot here – about how she was kind and funny and utterly engaging with everyone who stood in front of her, and how almost everyone else in the courtroom seemed very down and out and depressing, with ill-fitting clothes and bad tattoos and haircuts, stinking of smoke and stale laundry and trying to give lame excuses for why they'd ended up in court again, and how nice she was to every single one of them ... It was the first time I've ever been in court and it was totally fascinating, both the process itself and me, watching it.
The main thing I noticed about myself there was that I fully expected her to see that I was clearly a different kind of person than the others, a better kind of person, and to come down extra hard on me because a person like me should have known better. Hrmm. A couple of hours into the wait I almost decided to get up and leave, and just pay the damn fine, just so I wouldn't have to stand in front of all those people and tell my self-righteous tale, and then have to pay the full amount anyway.
But it was interesting to see everything that was happening, and I wanted to see what would happen when it was my turn. What happened was she listened to my very brief synopsis of what had happened, looked at my "excellent driving record" (not at my visual aids), and dismissed the citation. What?!
Yeah. She asked me if I wanted to take a gamble on my good record, and I said yes. So she gave me a conditional dismissal, meaning that if I get no more "pointable" citations in the next year, this one will be dismissed forever. If I do get another citation, this one will come back and I'll have to pay for both of them. Seeing as how this was only my third citation in over 30 years of driving, I think I can handle that.
The whole experience really made my day. And gave me a few things to think about, unrelated to traffic. One is, I have got to keep working on my attitude when it comes to so many of my fellow humans. I didn't like feeling vaguely afraid of them, vaguely repelled, wanting to keep my distance. Two, aside from having to get up so early, I really loved being up and about while the sun was rising, and having someplace to go, and something to do and learn. I miss that so much lately – just the comfort of being involved in structured, meaningful activities with other people. Three, I noticed myself really wanting to be doing something useful and productive. I liked looking at the judge in her robe, and the bailiff in her butchy uniform, and the attorneys walking around, even the guys on the parking lot construction crew and the ladies at the coffee cart – it seemed like everyone had something they were contributing to the world, and I imagined each one of them waking up this morning and getting ready for work and going through their day ... Now that I've been away from it for awhile, it seems like it must be a very satisfying kind of experience to have. To feel needed by people who expect you to show up and do your work, and to show up and do it. I miss that.
So I guess I feel like it's coming to be time for me to jump back in. Now if I can just find something to do.
On July 16, on my way home after the rare post-birthday indulgence of an iced coffee (decaf), a pedicure (pearly olive green) and a haircut (4 inches off the bottom), I was pulled over by a cop. It was the first time it has ever happened when I had truly no idea at all what I'd done wrong. Turns out I had overlooked a tiny little sign that changed a "must merge left" lane into a "right turn only" lane. Even the cop acknowledged that someone had cut me off while I was trying to merge (causing it to take longer than it really should have) and that there really wasn't nearly enough time for people to get over before the lane changed (only about 200 feet at 30 miles an hour), and that the signage was inadequate, confusing and poorly placed. Nevertheless, it's his job to cite people who break the rules, and I had clearly broken them. So I went home with a ticket.
I was mad and annoyed, but figured, whatever, it can't be more than maybe a hundred bucks – I'll just pay the thing. Imagine my dismay when the citation arrived in the mail with a price tag, including the citation itself plus various assorted fees and traffic school (not to mention the cost of transportation and my valuable time), of over $350. True, I was guilty of the violation. But the way it all happened, I really felt like it wasn't all my fault. For the first time in my life, I decided to go to court.
Traffic court meets only once a week, on Wednesday mornings. To be seen, you have to get there early – the door opens at 8 a.m., but the first person in the line today told me she arrived at 5:45 to secure her place. I had my own ordeal getting there – first procrastinating several weeks until I had the perfect package of annotated Google map photos showing exactly how ridiculous the signs were, plus a few examples of more typical intersections in town (to demonstrate how I came to have such reasonable expectations of traffic signs, which expectations had been violated by the stupidity of the signs on that intersection) – and then suffering the stress of getting up in time to shower, dress as if for a job interview, and get myself out the door by 6 a.m., just in case traffic was bad. It was not, but parking was. I ended up losing my place in line after a nice lady warned me I was likely to get a ticket if I didn't move my car to a different parking lot two blocks away.
At 8 o'clock the office opened and the line started to move. Three hours later I finally had my moment in front of the judge. I feel like I'm skipping a lot here – about how she was kind and funny and utterly engaging with everyone who stood in front of her, and how almost everyone else in the courtroom seemed very down and out and depressing, with ill-fitting clothes and bad tattoos and haircuts, stinking of smoke and stale laundry and trying to give lame excuses for why they'd ended up in court again, and how nice she was to every single one of them ... It was the first time I've ever been in court and it was totally fascinating, both the process itself and me, watching it.
The main thing I noticed about myself there was that I fully expected her to see that I was clearly a different kind of person than the others, a better kind of person, and to come down extra hard on me because a person like me should have known better. Hrmm. A couple of hours into the wait I almost decided to get up and leave, and just pay the damn fine, just so I wouldn't have to stand in front of all those people and tell my self-righteous tale, and then have to pay the full amount anyway.
But it was interesting to see everything that was happening, and I wanted to see what would happen when it was my turn. What happened was she listened to my very brief synopsis of what had happened, looked at my "excellent driving record" (not at my visual aids), and dismissed the citation. What?!
Yeah. She asked me if I wanted to take a gamble on my good record, and I said yes. So she gave me a conditional dismissal, meaning that if I get no more "pointable" citations in the next year, this one will be dismissed forever. If I do get another citation, this one will come back and I'll have to pay for both of them. Seeing as how this was only my third citation in over 30 years of driving, I think I can handle that.
The whole experience really made my day. And gave me a few things to think about, unrelated to traffic. One is, I have got to keep working on my attitude when it comes to so many of my fellow humans. I didn't like feeling vaguely afraid of them, vaguely repelled, wanting to keep my distance. Two, aside from having to get up so early, I really loved being up and about while the sun was rising, and having someplace to go, and something to do and learn. I miss that so much lately – just the comfort of being involved in structured, meaningful activities with other people. Three, I noticed myself really wanting to be doing something useful and productive. I liked looking at the judge in her robe, and the bailiff in her butchy uniform, and the attorneys walking around, even the guys on the parking lot construction crew and the ladies at the coffee cart – it seemed like everyone had something they were contributing to the world, and I imagined each one of them waking up this morning and getting ready for work and going through their day ... Now that I've been away from it for awhile, it seems like it must be a very satisfying kind of experience to have. To feel needed by people who expect you to show up and do your work, and to show up and do it. I miss that.
So I guess I feel like it's coming to be time for me to jump back in. Now if I can just find something to do.
