Here comes da’ judge!


I have a bit of ordeal in store for me tomorrow morning.  I have to get down to the courthouse in downtown Oakland by 6:30 AM to deal with my “open container” ticket.   So I gotta’ wake up at my campsite at about 5 AM.  Pack everything up in the darkness.  And walk about a mile to the bus-stop on Telegraph.  Then I take the bus to downtown Oakland.  Then you have to wait in line outside the courthouse in the freezing wind for an hour before they open the doors at 7:45 AM.  It’s important to get there an hour early because they only let the first hundred people on line get into the courtroom

I almost spaced out and forgot all about my court date.  You have two months to take care of your ticket before it turns into a warrant for your arrest (and that’s no fun).  And I just realized today that tomorrow is the last day I got left to take care of it.  So I better get my ass down there.  Part of my problem is that I procrastinate and put things off to the last minute.  But I was also shocked and surpised at how fast those two months flew by.

I find the whole courthouse scene surreal.  Waiting outside in the dark, half-asleep, with a couple hundred other offenders.  Going through the metal detector (I always struggle to keep my pants from falling down after I’ve taken off my belt, while I struggle to gather up all my possessions and not lose my place in line).  Waiting in another long line to get to one of the clerks at the window so they can schedule your appearance before da’ Judge (your Honor, it’s so nice to meet you again!).  Lounging around in the lobby waiting for the court session to begin (that’s the only part of the ordeal I sort of  enjoy, I can finally buy a cup of coffee at the concession stand, and I usually get a hot dog, too, and then I kill time for an hour reading a newspaper).

And then, finally, you’re sitting in the court room going through the motions of that well-oiled machine.  And its’ kinda’ like being a slab of meat on an assembly line.  As you mindlessly shuffle down the line.  And everybody gets to take a pound of your flesh at every stop.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s