I'm writing this
in the Orange County Courthouse while my son and I wait to go
into traffic court. Later I'll transcribe it and put in into
County Courthouse is not the Compton Courthouse. There are
white-folk here, not so many of color. It's cleaner here in the
hall and I bet, whenever I see them, that the bathrooms are not
so tagged-up. (they weren't)
There is, I
notice, An Hispanic girl who has hair, if it was woven into rope,
would be suitable to tie up the Queen Mary. (thick) (awfully
An aging surfer
(going bald) with faded jeans, a Hawaiian shirt, and flip-flops,
flip-flops by on the slick terrazzo floor. A large woman talks to
a man wearing sunglasses on his head, who is squinging up her
nose saying, "Nyana, nyana, nyana," while gesticulating with her
hand in a dismissive manner to explain to him the cop's attitude
when he gave her a ticket. A young Hispanic girl with short hair
is staring at me with widened eyes thinking, "What is that old
man writing anyway?"
An older woman
walks by displaying a tee-shirt with the words "Super Mom"
emblazoned in rhinestones. My son is standing behind a woman of
color (black) with Ophra hair, who is reading a thick novel of
some sort though I can't see the cover. I suspect it is an
A blond surfer
girl (is there any other kind?) is reprimanding her boyfriend for
getting another ticket. She sits while he stands in front of her.
And he thought he'd be in front of only one judge today I'll bet.
"What could I
do?' he pleads, stating his case. Perhaps he's only practicing
for the main event in the court room.
A man glides by
with a cart full of mail whose cuffs are as frayed as mine. He is
followed by a janitor pushing a cart of cleaning supplies whose
tennies are as worn and white as mine are.
The three people
who are lined up in front of a door labeled "Criminal Operations
K-100 are a varied lot. Criminals usually are. Three, no four
lawyers walk by wearing rumpled suits they obviously slept in are
carrying briefcases. Out of a door comes the girl with wide eyes
A woman with a
worried look walks past and smells of unidentifiable perfume. All
perfume is unidentifiable to me. A man who wants to know where to
pay a fine asks a lawyer for directions. He obliges, knowing
that's all he's good for. When the girl at the end of the line
(the one who smelled of perfume) turns sideways I realize at once
she has a kick-ass figure. The cop that gave her a ticket was
committing a crime and should have arrested himself. No girl that
fine ever deserves a ticket, even when she deserves a ticket.
Know what I mean? I should have been a judge.
My son comes out
and I have to stop writing. We've got a court room to