If you’ve never been to court before I’ll tell you this – it’s a nerve-wracking experience. I don’t care how tough you think you might be but some serious $hit goes on in there. And I’m not talking about being on trial for serious offenses like murder or grand larceny or armed robbery, no. I’m talking about something that is relatively minor – traffic violations.
I don’t consider myself an expert of sorts when it comes to traffic court but I’ve been there a couple of times – or ten. For some of us who are borderline professionals with a heavy foot, you feel me. For those of you who just have a heavy foot, I know you feel me. Traffic court is an intricate game of Russian roulette with the cop and the judge standing side by side either ready to reward you greatly or to chop your balls off. More often than not I’ve come out the courtroom clutching my groin with blood dripping in between my fingers. Not literally of course, but you get the picture.
The last time I stood before the judge was nothing short of humiliating. I was all gung-ho while sitting on the bench waiting for my name to be called out thinking I would charm and cajole or sweet-talk my way out of it but the moment I got to the witness stand I could visualize the judge & the popo, in my mind’s eye, waiting with relish for that fateful moment when the machete swings toward its target or more realistically, when the gavel swings down. In any case, it was the realization that I’m a total bitch when it comes to the law that was devastating. My dumb ass should’ve realized that a long time ago but I hadn’t. I never wondered why my heart hammers in my chest when I see the boys in blue. I never wondered why every time I look in the rearview and see a flash of blue my hands tremble. I never wondered why at the office I feel my sphincters dilating when I pick up the phone and someone on the other end claims to be with the Fairfax County Police Department. [They’re my nemesis, by the way, responsible for 98% of all my traffic stops. Punks. I know I was speeding but damn!]
It doesn’t much improve my deteriorating relationship with the local authorities when I see them handcuff drivers and take them to jail for 30 days. How about those stopped for DUI who pay 1,500 dollars, lose their license for 6 months and serve 15 days in jail? How about those who are ordered to pay, out of their pockets, damages sustained when they keyed someone else’s car? Don’t get me wrong; I’m not even trying to justify these people’s actions – heck no. I’m just telling you all this so you can see that witnessing all these incidents gives me the willies when I get behind that stand. Anything can happen up in there.
For those who are blessed – or is it cursed? – with the need for speed, don’t worry that no one else understands why we do what we do. Why does Bush constantly use the word ‘strategery?’ Why are the smallest people the ones with the biggest voices? Why don’t the good-looking girls get any action? Why do the good-looking guys get all the action? Why does a dog lick its rear orifice then want to lick your face? Why do I like Gabrielle Union so much? Jadakiss, why?!
I guess I’ll have to keep driving fast! Bite me! Find me an attorney first though!