I'm a mess

I came home a few weeks ago and there was a subpoena taped to my door. Remember the woman that rear ended me and my mother back in January?



Well, apparently she was contesting her ticket so I was to appear as a witness for the prosecution, which in this case was the city that the accident took place in.

There was a note on the subpoena to call the prosecutor and when I did, he asked if he could count on me to be there.

My response? "Oh, she's goin' down. I'll be there."

Today was the court date.

Mapquest sucks because I ended up getting lost in the most God awful part of Cleveland. I kept driving thinking that eventually I would hit a familiar main road but it just wasn't happening. I reached to put my sunglasses on so that people wouldn't see the fear in my eyes if I accidentally made eye contact with them at a traffic light.

Thankfully, I looked in my side mirror and saw a police car coming up alongside me.



I rolled my window down and started frantically waving my arm to get their attention. They stopped right in the middle of the road and rolled down their window. They gave me the directions I needed and then pulled in front of me when we started moving again.

A few intersections down, the one officer got out of the car and walked over to mine to be sure that I knew exactly where I needed to go. I thought that was really nice of him. Of course, he probably knew that he was just saving himself from a 911 call later from a panicked, middle aged white woman lost in the hood.

Let me preface this court drama for you by saying that I'm still sick with whatever the heck this cough is, work is a nightmare, we just moved Mom to a new hospice facility yesterday and Vinny is peeing on my sofa again so I'm absolutely drained. At least my cough syrup with codeine knocks me out enough at night so I can get some sleep but it usually doesn't amount to much.

I have two moods. Weepy and bitchy. I'm either really sad and crying at the drop of a hat or I'm really pissed off at everyone and everything. And yes, sometimes I'm both in the course of an hour.

I got to court 15 minutes early and since it's a small suburban court, there were only a few other people there waiting for their cases to be heard. The bailiff was like a character out of Kill the Irishman. He spoke very animatedly and had a thick gold chain around his neck.

Since the woman who hit me (who hereafter shall be referred to as, The Biatch) was waiting for her attorney, the other two cases were heard first. Both entered a No Contest plea, which essentially means that they admit fault but it's by no fault of their own. Also known as the Pussy Plea.

By now, The Biatch's attorney had arrived and she approached the court to plea on her defendant's behalf. I was waiting for them to call me to the stand and ask me to place my hand on the Bible and swear to tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help me God.

I guess I've been watching too many Law and Order shows because that didn't happen. The attorneys mumbled importantly to each other and then the prosecutor asked if The Biatch's attorney could approach me to talk.

Sure, I say.

Well...it wasn't pretty after that. I had been up since 5AM and I was tired and annoyed that I had to be there. And that I almost lost my life in the hood.

Essentially, what The Biatch wanted to do was plead guilty to the charges but NOT have the points on her license so "her insurance rates wouldn't go up since she's the primary caregiver for her 5 year old son."

Cue the violins! Boo hoo. Tell it to someone who cares.

I told her that I was sorry that she had such a lousy driving record and felt the need to contest a few points on a license. I brought up how I was the caregiver for my mother and how that certainly wouldn't excuse my behavior if I had hit her.

I even pointed out how accusatory she was when I got out to inspect the damage to my car.

"Why did you stop so fast??"

And how she never even filed the claim with her insurance company.

"Yes, I did. That must be a mistake."

Boo hoo. Tell it to someone who cares.

I, admittedly, was irrationally upset. I guess it was a culmination of everything because I even thought to myself, God, I'm a mess. What the hell is wrong with me?

When The Biatch, her attorney and the prosecutor all went outside to confer about whether she would take the next step and go to court, Mr. Tough Guy bailiff came over and said, "You shouldn't be so upset about this. It's really not that big of a deal."

And what do you think I did?

That's right. I started to cry. And once I started, I couldn't stop.

He panicked, "Oh geez. Oh geez. I should have left you alone. I'm sorry."

I had calmed myself down a little by the time they all came back in and The Biatch's attorney made one last attempt to get me to change my mind.

Who knew that I held all the cards in the court's final ruling?

I responded, "Look. Your client hit me so she should incur points on her license. If she wants a trial, I'll see you in court."

I always wanted to say that..

To which, The Biatch's attorney turned to the judge and said, "We would like to change our plea to No Contest." That means court costs, a fine and points on her license.

Oh, and I get $6.00 for being there as a witness.



DUH. WINNING!