Scene set: Kristin rolls up to District Court in place crew neck tshirt, with a gold pencil skirt, flats, bangles, and a low messy bun. My goal for my outfit = completely and totally professional, yet unaware that I look so. An effortless look makes me look like a good person, good people equal good drivers, good drivers do not drive erratically and certainly abide by all posted and non posted safety rules, those who follow safety rules are not at fault for car accidents they are in. Therefore, in summation my effortless look would send a subliminal message to the judge alerting her that she shouldn’t overturn my appeal. It is very straightforward and scientific.
Moving on.
As I walk in, I can’t but help think about how put together I look. I am articulate and stylish? Bonus points with the judge?
Anxious Interaction 1: The Parking Lot
Of course there are no parking spaces. Why would I be able to park legally in the court lot when appealing a driving-wrong-doing of mine? Isn’t it more fun to ticket those who are appealing tickets? Luckily for me, the parking lot is in desperate need of parking spot paint touch ups, so my spot was most likely a spot, but no one can ever be certain. Sigh.
Anxious Interaction 2: The Metal Detector
Dear Metal Detector, I would like to applaud you on your dedication to public safety, Metal detector. While at first, I was a bit put off by the large, federal airport-esque security monitor and procedure that welcomed me to my recent venture to the district courthouse, I commend you for protecting me from other, much angrier, citizens [who may try winning their parking ticket appeal through carrying a firearm].
You cause me deep “Am I carrying any firearms/drugs/alcohol/grenades or other flammable and/or harmful products” anxiety, but nonetheless I understand your importance and appreciate your willingness to allow me through the first time unscathed.
Anxious Interaction 3: The Security Professional Who Handles the Metal Detector
Dear Ralph? Next time, please don’t hand me back my purse, telling me I am all set, only to then tell me that the cell phone I have in my bag needs to remain in the car. I am a very anxious person, and you giving me the false hope that I was in the clear, only to then retract your thought really put a damper on my court confidence.
Anxious Interaction 4: The Metal Detector, again
Dear Metal Detector, thank you for letting me through relatively painlessly…again.
Anxious Interaction 5: The Security Hand, again
Dear Ralph? For future situations, perhaps it would be in the best interests of all parties involved to alert me about all of the contraband items I have in my purse the first time. Example? When an individual has both a cell phone and a camera, both of which are apparently contraband items, perhaps it is most efficient to tell said individual about both items at the same time, rather than having her go back out to her car, and come back in, only to be then sent back out to remove additional items.
Court confidence is completely shot.
Anxious Interaction 6: The Waiting Room
What makes a waiting room more welcoming? Church pews! Yes, I definitely think so. I especially like pews that bend and crack when an additional person sits down or stands. The waiting room smells like when group time out meets the principal’s office meets musical chairs. Sit there, and think about what you’ve done until you are told to sit in the special chair, which means you are next in line. Then everyone will stare at you while you continue to think about what you have done.
Anxious Interaction 7: Blunt Man Also Waiting for An Appeal.
While I know you may be trying to strike up a conversation with a stranger, telling me that I better “pray for a male judge so that I can bat my eyes and pop my cleave” probably isn’t the best way to start a conversation, especially while I am sitting in the “on deck” seat. May I suggest next time using a more simple approach, such as “good luck.” Also, refrain from telling me when I can go into the court room. As far as I am concerned, your advice means nothing to me unless you are the officer I will be directly conversing with.
Other honorable mentions: an awkward parking lot encounter with a woman who wanted my [possibly illegal] parking spot both times I returned to my car, noticing that if I had come in the other entrance I would have avoided the metal detectors, needing to think about which hand was my right hand when asked to swear in.
Overall, I’d say that my first experience as a defendant wasn’t much of a positive one, besides my very intimate and straightforward proceedings. Let’s hope we don’t need to do this again in the near future, Kristin Anne.
Fingers crossed for the letter coming in the mail in 3-4 weeks.
This whole situation also brings up another small life conundrum. Do I say “rabbit rabbit” tomorrow, or no? Is my appeal resting on the repetition of one little word?
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