So let's get started:
I wasted much of today in Coney Island (not the fun-ferris-wheel-part of Coney Island mind you, but the "fighting-a-moving-violation-ticket" part of Coney Island.) It all began a couple of months ago, when I was pulled over in Carroll Gardens for not wearing my seat belt. And you can only imagine my genuine astonishment when the officer told me why I was being pulled over, given that I WAS WEARING MY SEAT BELT AT THE TIME. I'm so naive, it is just laughable in retrospect. I actually looked up at the officer- blinking with confusion- and said "But I'm wearing my seat belt." Like that was going to phase her. Nope, she said "That's not my problem" and told me to fight it in court if I didn't like it. Holy sh--t.
And of course, because I am a stubborn bull-headed brute, I am fighting the ticket. And I also filed a complaint against the ticketing officer. And that, I am coming to realize, may have been a mistake because I'm pretty sure I have unwittingly declared war against the NYPD.
It wasn't until two weeks after this first incident that I realized I was at war, when less than a mile from the first ticket, I was PULLED OVER AGAIN. Yes. You read correctly. PULLED OVER AGAIN. This was the morning after I had dug out our car (thank you mother nature) only to discover that some delightful Brooklynite had waxed the side of my car with his car at some point during the snow storm, and taken much of my side-view mirror with him when he left. De-lightful.
So when the officer flagged me over, I stupidly thought she was pointing out that someone had hit the side of the car. And I'm mouthing "I know! Can you believe it?!" and making little "What are you going to do?" faces, and she's looking at me like I'm a total idiot so then I roll down my window and I'm like "Sorry, what?" and she tells me to pull over. So I do. And then they tell me I'm being pulled over for not wearing my seatbelt, WHICH I AM WEARING. It made me feel like I was on glue. Do you not see what I see? Because I see my seatbelt stretching across my body from the window to the clicky-thing. You can't see that? But-- I'm not a total idiot and I do not say any of that. I say "You've GOT TO BE KIDDING ME."
So fast forward to today, when I have my first court appearance to dispute ticket #1. I drive out to Coney Island, which is actually only about 20 minutes away on a good day, but could take over an hour in traffic, so I have to leave ridiculously early, because Mummy always told me that being late does not make a good first impression. So I get to the court house in 20 minutes and have another 40 minutes of waiting. Which is-- whatever. Life, right? Except once the judge finally comes in (15 minutes late- and Mummy was right- it did not make a good first impression) he tells me that my ticketing officer is unable to attend the court today because she is out sick and I would have to reschedule and come back in May. And then like any rational person would do, I leapt over the judge's desk and socked him in the face.
No. That's not what happened. Because Mummy also told me that socking people in the face gives an even worse impression and I really do want to be vindicated regarding these tickets and according to my friend the District Attorney, racking up "Assaulting an Officer of the Court" really shouldn't be on the itinerary until I get this first matter resolved.
Even if I spent most of the morning with bearded women and criminals (the only people in Coney Island
So I guess the moral of this story is... Don't doubt New York? It giveth and it taketh away? Hopefully the rewards are better than the repercussions, but even if they're not, we New Yorkers can comfort ourselves knowing that there are also really good restaurants here.
Thank you for patiently reading this blog post- even though it was clearly about venting and not really about home design. Tomorrow, I will get back on task and will have something exciting for you to read about over the weekend. I promise.