PC: traffic court

Nothing could have prepared me for Traffic Court. Sure, I went in knowing my part in the production. Surrounded by the other players was what was so unusual.

The Honorable Enrobed Judge comes out and covers his ears with what looks like headphones from the 1970s. Sitting down, he quickly dispenses with pleasantries. No disrespect will be tolerated. Almost on cue goes the the first ring of a cell phone. Quelling the obnoxious ring did nothing for the offender. He is escorted out of the courtroom.

We are called alphabetically. 'Allen' looked ready to pee his pants. His mother sits prim as she looks on.

"Allen, you are charged with going 63 in a 40. How do you plead? Guilty or not guilty?"

A murmur escapes from Allen's mouth.

"Speak up son," demands the judge.

"Guilty, sir!" Allen overcompensates and practically yells.

It is the same for each of the offenders. Thankfully, I'm somewhere between Allen and Smith. Corlew is before me. He is charged with rolling a stop sign, not wearing a seat belt, and driving without insurance. He pleads guilty to two out of three.

Stepping up to the podium, I felt 3-years old. This time, though, no amount of tears or whining could get you out of this one. Resigned to my fate, I step up.

"You are charged with going 57 in a 40. How do you plead?"

"Guilty, sir." Meekly, yet clear words formed. Was it really me speaking?

"Being as this is your first offense, you have the opportunity to attend traffic school, pay court cost and your ticket will be dismissed. Would you like this chance?"

"Yes, sir. Please."

The gavel bangs.

The judge is a like a major league pitcher. Three up, three down. He doesn't take kindly to shuffling of the feet or smart talk, but doesn't seem to mind hat-head from the high-schoolers and loggers. He has no patience for child safety seat violation.

"Why wasn't your son properly restrained?" Honorably Enrobed demands.

"My husband put the seat in that morning. He didn't do it right." says the mousy-haired mother who hasn't slept in years, I'd guess.

"So, you're going to blame you husband?!" replies the judge, his eyes piercing.

"Um, no," stammers the mother, "Guess I should have looked closer."

Her faux remorse summons the ire of the Honorably Enrobed. "Consider this your warning. If I see your face here again, I will have no mercy!" All he needs is a loud thunderclap and a lightening flash.

Dismissed with bang of a gavel, a date and a shaky signature, the adrenaline ceases and life goes on.