Judgement day

This is going to suck.

I walk into the Dakota County building at 8:30 a.m. About 50 others are already waiting. Some have tatoos, some wear suits, some have ripped jeans. Some are high school students wearing A&F. I put on a tie today. That's after waking up late, skipping breakfast, and taking a wrong turn. But now we're all waiting.

Oh, this is going to suck.

The courtroom starts out empty--then a bailiff opens the doors and belts out the rules. We file through the doors, fill the court room, and we wait. First we're in the line to sign in at the front of the room, then for our names to be called one by one. There's wood paneling everywhere. What's with court rooms and wood paneling? Eventually a suited prosecutor enters and sits on a wood chair at a wood table. She calls up one of us disputing a speeding ticket. They discuss. Then she calls another who was driving without a liscense or insurance. They discuss. Paperwork is everywhere.

It's already been 45 minutes. Wow this sucks.

Finally a judge appears. "All Rise," the bailiff bellows. The judge sits down. As the bailiff says "you can have a seat," the judge tosses his hand at his audience without concern, motioning us to sit down, already. His robe is not closed.

With a smirk, he says "You can see I wore my nice flannel shirt today," he says. The courtroom tension lifts. He begins buttoning the black robe. With exagerated facial expressions, he says "See I'm what they call a senior judge, which means I'm retired--good for nothing. They just ran out of judges today."

This will be good.

"If everyone had a theme song, you know what mine would be?" He pauses and smiles at us. "The McDonalds one. 'You deserve a break today.'"

Oh, this will be good.

"I think it's kind of stupid that you have to come in here and spend your whole morning waiting. If I had my way, you'd do this all by mail. But they don't listen to me. Maybe that's why I stayed here instead of going over to St. Paul."

This is better than a movie.

While the prosecutor continues to call up people to sit and discuss at the table, the Judge starts calling people up. But in front of the judge, we have to stand, with the judge up high staring down. Just like the movies.

The Judge calls up a high school student. It sounds like he was involved in stealing a candy bar and a can of pop at a convenience store.

"Now I don't have time to give long lectures this morning, but why would you go and do something stupid like that?" He says, continuing the exaggerated facial expressions. He turns to the court stenographer. "Why would he do something dumb like that, Jeff?" Back to the kid. "You'll be running for President of the United States, and then this will come up. And then, nope, you're out. You're really messing up your life!" He pauses. "Can you pay $100 in court fees today?"

The kid hesitates, like he doesn't want to pay fees. "Ah, yes."

The judge dumbs it down and leans toward him. "See, you're paying $100 to keep it off your record."

I don't think too many of us understand how this process works. Do we get off the hook just for showing up? What's going on here?

The judge continues calling us up, as does the prosecutor. The judge's stack of cases runs out.

"Well it looks like I don't have any more cases! If no one else wants to talk to me, I'm going to take a break."

Um, I've got a question: What the hell is the difference between talking to you and talking to the prosecutor? I don't actually speak up. But to a rookie, the courtroom experience can be a daunting one. As entertaining as the substitute judge was, we were all lost. Except for the tattooed lady who was caught violating her parole rules.

That was good.