THE DUI DIARY: Chapter Eleven

OK, today was a short day in court for me, the shortest so far, but I learned something very interesting in regards to our tactics.



I was scheduled to show up in court at 8:30 in the morning. Everyone who has ever gone to court knows this is bullshit. Court doesn’t start until the judge shows up, and the judge is always late. What happens if you and I are late for work? We’re reprimanded, or maybe our pay is docked, or worse, maybe we’re fired. The judge operates on DGT, or Daniel Guerin Time.


Regardless, I’m always there early. I want to get a good seat, because court is actually kind of fun, at least if someone is willing to fight. All the losers who plead guilty are boring as fuck. They go like clockwork, and the scripts are always the same. It’s a shame there are so many of them.


I didn’t get the chance to find out which cases were going to be fun or not. As soon as Earl showed up, he waved me outside and explained exactly what we were going to do today. Rather than begin my trial, we were going to ask for another date.


I didn’t have to ask why, but he graciously explained anyway, mostly for my grandfather’s benefit. The best tactic in my case, he told us, would be to keep asking for new dates. Best case scenario: we keep getting new dates, and during this time, the appeal might work out in my favor. If I get my appeal, and the new judge overturns dickhead’s decision, then my trial becomes unnecessary. Big smiles all around.


Worst case scenario: the judge turns us down, and we begin the trial anyway. Again, it all comes down to a roll of the dice. My attorneys are very good at their jobs. I trust them implicitly. If they think this thing has a chance, I’m with them. I gave my OK immediately.


We went back in, and I was the next case called before the judge. Earl asked for a new date, and the judge nodded and said September 21. Thank-yous were given, and Earl asked me to wait outside for him.


I walked out the court’s doors, and it wasn’t even nine o’clock yet. This is the shortest amount of time I’ve ever been in those considerably unhallowed halls.


Outside, I gave Earl an envelope with $500 in it, and he gave me a receipt. There were additional costs on my bill, mostly for various transcriptions. I noticed that there was a fee for $150 for submitting my appeal. If that was all it was going to cost me, why not roll the dice?


I now have about $440 left to pay my attorneys, and by the next time I see them, it will probably be more, but if they can get me out of this mess, it will be worth every penny. Until next time . . . .


On a related note, when I got home and got out of my hideously hot suit, I noticed that my fly was open. How long had it been like this? I cast my mind back, trying to remember the last time I’d opened my pants.

Sadly, I thought the last time had been when I took a piss before heading out to court. This means that every moment I spent inside the court, my fly was open. How many people had noticed? Had the judge noticed? This is horrible! I was wearing flimsy boxers beneath. What if my johnson had decided to make an appearance?

No, someone would have noticed, if that were the case. I decided to forget about the whole thing . . . .

TO BE CONTINUED ON MONDAY!