I fought the law and the law won…

So, I went to traffic court today.  I was the recipient of a ticket I thought I may be able to talk my way around.  My court time allowed me to not miss work, just go right after.  At my job, I am allowed to wear t shirts.  So, I felt a little self conscious that I had one on…until I walked in.  There was a girl in a bathing suit with a coverup over it.  That is it.  There was a girl in a black nylon see through top, under which was a neon orange bra.  There were two other women in bathing suits and t shirts and shortie shorts.  There was a man in shorts and a t shirt that had not been washed in a long time, probably never.  There was a girl in a party dress – the kind that looks like a window valance at the bottom (poofy) with green paisley all over – strapless and wearing a cheap white bra that did have straps (wearing black patten leather working-girl heels that were horribly scuffed).  There was a man who picked at his meth scabs on his face.  There was no A/C so the warm air, lack of hygiene etiquette and laundry issues swirled around into one fetid pool of nasty.  I sat next to an older woman whose foul language could make even me blush.  It was about thirty minutes into this shit show of a government circus that I decided “You win Pomeroy, you win.  Where do I pay the fine.”

I can understand not having “fancy” clothes to wear to court.  I can understand being a byproduct of your cultural environment.  I could almost tolerate court etiquette ignorance.  But what I just witnessed…makes me wonder where are ALL their mothers who should have schooled them on how NOT to present yourself in public?!?

I lived on the fringes of NYC for the better part of a decade.  I have been privy to comments from people in “these here parts” that lean toward “oh you lived in crime ridden NYC where muggings, rapes and murders happened daily”… to those people I invite you to spend one Monday evening in “Pomeroy Traffic Court” in good ole Ohio.  Your views of my New York would pale in comparison.



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