My daughter was appalled when she saw my notice of a trial for the speeding ticket. It said near the top of the page in bold, “State of Maryland vs. CG”
“Mom! That’s terrible.” She is still adjusting to the inevitable realization that her mother isn’t perfect. I wish I wasn’t giving her so many lessons in that though.

I arrived two hours early for my trial time. I checked out the little brick courthouse in the quaint Eastern Shore town. I found the posted docket to see if I might get an earlier hearing. There were 56 people listed on the docket ahead of me, all listed at the same court time. Looks like I had plenty of time for lunch. It was a good thing I had made a lunch date with the cutie-pie excavator/crane operator I met the day before I got the speeding ticket in the first place. I have a story to share from that lunch, but that will have to be in another post.

After lunch, I returned to the courthouse and sat on the benches in the hallway outside the chambers with the other violators. I counted twelve men and six women of various ages and races waiting in the hall. Most of us offenders were dressed in business casual. There was one guy in a work uniform with his name on a chest patch. One big young guy had on a billowing t-shirt with surfers on it that asked if anyone would like to wax his woody. I’m guessing that question had gone unanswered for a while. I wondered how strong the correlation would be between dress and trial outcome.

The first few moments we were all quiet and fidgeting with our papers and comparing them to the docket posted on the bulletin board. One guy hoped aloud that since he was the only one listed for that particular officer, maybe he would get lucky any the trooper wouldn’t show. I didn’t realize the officers’ names were listed, so I went back to the board, hopeful. There were at least a dozen for my officer. He must’ve had a busy day that Saturday. What a speed trap! I was pretty sure I recognized him in the courthouse anyway. Dern.

So we sat there on hard wooden benches amid the seatbelt safety posters exchanging excuses and strategies. Being guilty of the same crime is a bonding factor. We were quick confidantes. I was planning on observing earlier trials to see if I could find a factor that worked with the judge so I could repeat it.

When we entered the courtroom, I was seated in the front bench between two handsome men. When the bailiff instructed us to squish in closer to provide more seating, my initial optimism was dulled by the gold bands on their fingers. Figures. The bailiff gave us the run-down on where and when to stand and sit, how to speak, and what was contraband: gum, cell phones, talking, food & drink.

This is the first time in years I have been in court because of my own wrong doing. I had gone to traffic court once about 15 years earlier. Since then it was just for my divorce and as moral support for a friend – oh yeah, and as a character witness for one of my former students. So even with some experience under my belt, my armpits still felt a little sweaty.

On the wall was a portrait of a smiling, pin-headed judge with big glasses and big ears. That was not the guy who walked into the room. The only time this judge smiled was when listening to the excuses offered: late for school, sun in my eyes, speeding to merge, avoiding a road rager. What was my excuse: didn’t want to be late for a hot date? Just met a cutie-pie heavy equipment operator? Good song on the radio?

The only thing getting people off was a clean driving record. There was no cheating on this – I thought – since the judge was looking at a computer screen up there behind his imposing bench. The eye candy next to me leaned over and whispered that he had a previous ticket, but in a different state while he had a different driver’s license. He was wondering if he should gamble that it wouldn’t show up on the screen. Since I enjoyed the whisper, I engaged him in a brief conversation about that. Lucky for him it worked. The judge let him off easy since he had a clean record.

I was not so lucky. My PA Turnpike speeding ticket showed up. My “I forgot to use my cruise control” excuse was insufficient. He did reduce my fine, but left the points. I expect I’ll hear from my car insurance company soon. Dern.

Double Dern. I just noticed my posting from yesterday didn't go through even though I got the "successful" message upon submission. I'll try to create it again later.