I've been terribly busy this week.
For it was during this week that my day in court finally arrived. To think it was in August that I received my ticket for running a red light! It amazes me how time flies and the calender months seem to just flutter away into oblivion. My memory of time is definitely influenced by my youth and measured in how many days till Christmas. It moved like frozen molasses. And I am now living in a place that allows me to know just how slow that really is!
I find myself in a court room. I find myself sitting behind the desk in front of the judge. Kind of cool. Like television. I have been in the jury box, I have been in the audience, and by God, I have been at the podium stating my excuses, but never seated in the hot seat, in a trail of all ridiculous thing. Defending myself. Client and laywer.
It was not a trial. It was a travesty of justice. Nothing I said made a bit of difference. Under intense cross examination of the officer who was stationed under the traffic light, I was able to get my point across that he and I were looking at two different lights! He finally said (in exasperation at my relentless questioning) that he could turn, which he demonstrated, totally twisting his body and reaching behind, showing the judge where the alleged traffic light was located, and hit the light with an imagery stick.
I had him. If only I had a lawyer I may have gotten out of it.
But alas, the judge, who is a woman and I firmly believe is in bed with the police department, ruled in favor of the Plaintiffs.
She asked if I had anything to add.
Only one resentful eye lock with her, that Bitch.
I could have told her I was having a heart attack, or a bee attack (much more realistic) and was taken to the hospital after being served my ticket. I guarantee she still would have ruled in favor of the police.
I have to admit, ever since the Incident at Coldwater, as it has become known, I am much more cognizant of those pesky turning lights.