Traffic Court

One day last month, I went to pick Katie up at a birthday party. I was nearly out of gas, so I decided to take the Husband's car. Because I am a rule follower, and an upstanding citizen, and don't even cut across parking lots, choosing instead to go up and down the aisles correctly (much to the annoyance of my passengers) - you can imagine my shock and horror when I was pulled over by a policeman.

The Husband had failed to register his vehicle. But the nice policeman didn't give the ticket to the law breaking husband, he gave it to the innocent, the unfortunate, the law abiding - me.

I cried. He was unmoved.

So this morning, I sent Katie off to school, and dropped Julia at preschool, and Henry and I headed downtown to the Hall of Justice.

The ticket said to be there at 8:30, but the Husband assured me that I would be fine showing up around 9:30, after preschool drop off. Now, if you know me even a little bit, you know that:
1. I hate being late.
2. I hate being lost.
3. I follow the rules.
4. If numbers 1-3 get screwed up, there is a good chance I will vomit, or cry, or have to poop, or all three.

In my mind, I am already late. And because I have become a country mouse, and rarely go into 'the city', and our little city refuses to do things like have streets that go both fucking directions, I got turned around. By the time I get to the courthouse, I am sweaty, teary, and I'm experiencing some intestinal distress. I pull my literal and figurative shit together, strap Henry into the stroller, and head in.

Here is what I learned in Traffic Court:

1. Normal people don't get traffic tickets. Or they pay an attorney to take care of it for them. Of the 8 gazillion people in line, not a single one of them could be classified as 'normal'. Excluding me, of course.
2. It is possible to use "motherfucker" in every sentence, as every part of speech. As in, "That motherfucker over there...He went to the motherfucking store...That is motherfucked up." Thank you to the woman behind me for introducing "motherfucker" as a verb.
3. The jails in Danbury are "no shit" and the ones in Yadkin County have the best food.
4. No one brings their kid to traffic court. Again, excluding me.
5. You can entertain a 20 month old for exactly 1 hour and 15 minutes with 1 Dum Dum, a Hot Wheel, a pack of wipes, some Froggy Farkle dice, a miniature flower pot, 6 rubber bracelets, a robot ring, and 7 band aids.
6. At 1 hour and 16 minutes, the screaming will begin.
7. Grown ups don't like hearing "Itsy Bitsy Spider" as much as kids.
8. It is absolutely possible for an individual to process every traffic violation through a little window, without speaking a single word. He actually communicated with me using only his thumb. Seriously.
9. That bitch over there better watch her face. I don't know what this means, or who she was talking about, but if it was me, I was fully prepared to use my child as a human shield.

The Husband will be paying for this one.