volunteering my afternoon...

...by going to the local Tech. school to donate a pint. My payment was a single serve packet of Nutter Butter cookies, and another of Cheezits. A pretty good deal exchange to my way of thinking.

Then I agreed to meet a friend at Recorder's Court for a hearing. Some sort of heated disagreement with a former employer. I fully understand how you can't just let some minor issue go because 'it's the principle of the thing'. But when you go stand before the judge, there is always a chance you will find yourself escorted by a big bulky officer with Glock and cuffs through the back door of the courtroom and issued an orange jumpsuit. Which likely would have happened if the friend had not taken an attorney with her, who was able to remind her of the value of keeping her mouth shut. It all worked out, but they will have to go back at some point.

My part of this sordid tale is how I could not get into the court room, to be the moral support I had promised. I was tearing down town to get there by 2:00, and grabbed the first parking space I saw, which was nearly a block away. I did not even hesitate because it involved 'parallel' parking, but just scooted right in and headed towards the building where the courtrooms are. Dashed in the door, only to find lots of loitering riff-raff, and knew I was in the wrong place: I had entered the door for the county lock-up. The next door down is Recorder's Court.

I did get into the right door, only to find a very ill-tempered deputy who made me take my folding pocket knife back to my car, a block away in the sizzling heat. I said I will just put it in the trash, and she said NO. "You have to take it to your car. This is a Jail Building, You Cannot put it in the trash can." I fully understand: the trustees do the building maintenance, and putting a knife where they could find and smuggle it is not a good idea. But she could have been more civil instead of snappish. I am sure she gets tired of saying the same thing over and over, day after day, but she signed on to be a public servant instead of acting like a shrew.

So I went back to my car, and emptied my pockets, no phone, no wallet, no anything except my key ring, with various tags with barcodes, keys and car key fob. But I forgot I have this little wee folding knife on the metal ring that looks just like a key. So, dammit. She told me I would have to take it and leave it in my car.

Then, on the third try: "You can't go in the courtroom wearing shorts". I am still wondering why she did not say that as soon as I walked in the door the first time? You are right to assume I got in my car and went home. Gnashing my teeth and cursing all the way.