Pointless

I had to go to court today. Here in Cleveland, people move slow. And by people, I mean traffic. I learned the hard way why this happens. Because while the posted speed limit in one spot may be 35, two feet down the road it will drop to 25. Then, you get a ticket for going a rapidly dangerous 36 miles per hour.

Sitting in court, my strategy was to plead not guilty, flirt a little with the judge, get the ticket dismissed, and move on with my day. My plans were abruptly stopped when I entered court to find easily 50 people in similar situations. This was much different than the town of Rotterdam court I was forced to sit through for high school government class!

I read through the paper they gave me as I walked in. It defined what pleads of guilty, no contest, and not guilty entailed. The more I read, the more I felt uncomfortable saying not guilty and having a trial date. The fact was, I was guilty. I was going 36 miles per hour. I mean, it's almost humanly impossible to go less than that! I just don't consider it a crime. While reading the paperwork, I noticed the woman next to me doing something different. She was, in fact, reading the tattoos that lined her arms. God bless her for being able to read.

I felt somewhat misplaced in this courtroom. I briefly envisioned myself promising the judge that I would never speed again solely because I never wanted to return to this court room ever again. I don't know if it was because the tattooed arms were delightful compared to the tattoo on her neck of a gun that frightened me, the guy walking around his weapon-like walking stick, or the friendly looking man walking around with a dirty t-shirt reading "I don't discriminate, I hate everyone," but I never wanted to come back to this place.

That is exactly what I would have to do if I pled not guilty. So, right then and there, that was out! I decided I was going to go with no contest. I would plead my case and smile real nice. And, that's exactly what I did while standing in front of the judge.

His response, "it's a tough way to learn a lesson." He proceeded to tell me my fine and dismissed my case. Damn it! As I spoke to the clerk in the courtroom, I played dumb and asked if there would be points on my license. Two. The man said I could ask the judge to revoke them if I wanted to. I figured why not give it a try. He waited for my tattooed friend to finish in front of the judge before slipping him a sticky note with my point erasing request.

The judge okayed it largely in part, according to my own thinking, to my tattooed friend. The woman had seven tickets in hand and felony misdemeanor charges hanging over head. She will be tried next week for six months to three years in prison. After that kind of showing, is 36 in a 25 really that bad?