I sobered up a long time ago.

I've just been busy.

So, my judge was a 90 year old slightly deaf guy who even a court officer told me "is crazy" when we broke for lunch the first day of trial. Awesome, right? He ended up precluding one of my witnesses who was supposed to testify regarding a BIG part of my overall theory. The judge was completely wrong on the law, and after a long argument on the record, he pretty much accused me of trial by ambush and he wouldn't allow it.

So that sucked. And totally freaked me out. But we kept going, and I recovered. My summation was kind of done on the fly because of the aforesaid hiccup, but the jury was still out all of 15 minutes before rendering a complete verdict in my favor. My heart was LITERALLY jumping out of my chest before the verdict was read. Afterward, the judge who had screwed me over winked at me. In hindsight, he probably knew the jury would go my way, and precluded my witness to either a) fuck with someone he knew was doing her first trial or b) assert his idiocracy on a somewhat basic point of law.

One of my firm's partners was in the courtroom when the jury came back, and although I was still in shock, I remember him giving me a hug afterward. Which is something I NEVER would have expected he was capable of doing, so it was pretty nice.

Our client was happy, and of course later told me she had been "a bit nervous" about it. Well, hell, so was I. But I proved myself at least on the first one. I'm sure the next one will be harder, but at least I'll have a base of confidence to go on.

In other news, a homeless woman on the subway today told me I was a "fucking fucking whore fucking slut" because I demurred when she asked for some change. Nice.

It's been a while.

Time for more subway tales.

3 pm. Post court appearance. Waiting for the #4 train to get back to the office. Police activity on the platform. It's unclear what the hell is going on, but when the train arrives, no one is allowed to get on. Why? Because, according to the esteemed NYPD officers on duty, there has been some kind of "immediate threat" that warrants action.

Or, inaction, as you will. The train sat there empty for nearly 30 minutes. Now, I was perfectly happy to wait because I get to bill all travel time, no matter the clusterfuck that is the NYC subway system. So I'm standing there, leaning against the wall tapping my foot to my music and browsing some paperwork, when one of the officers taps me on the shoulder and says, "Ma'am, we don't know how long this is going to take so you might want to take a different route." My reply: "Oh, that's ok, any other route would take twice as long anyway so I'll just wait here."

And then there it was:

"Well, if you want you could come wait in the police booth with me. Those shoes sure don't look very comfortable."

Ok, they weren't very comfortable, but I wasn't about to reciprocate any flirting just because my feet were about to fall off.

Another 10 minutes passed, the train left empty, another one arrived, and I was on my way. Frankly, a little freaked out hoping I wasn't about to be blown up, but on my way nonetheless. And then, walking up the few steps in the lobby of my office building, I TWISTED MY ANKLE IN THE DAMN SHOES I WAS WEARING.

I think God is punishing me for rejecting a man's advances.

"Ray, when someone asks you if you're a god, you say "YES"!"

Normally, a very true point. Thank you, Winston.

However, when crazy subway dude is the one asking if you are a goddess, you should probably say no, so as not to egg on the crazy:

8:45am: on the train to court reading over my file and minding my own business. Crazy Turrettes Man (CTM) approaches, steps on my foot, apologizes profusely, I smile and mumble "That's ok". CTM proceeds to crouch down, pat the top of my patent leather ballet flat, to which I repeat, "really, it's ok" and shift slightly away from him.

CTM sidles up next to me, and begins to intently stare. And then, rocking back and forth and twitching, "You're so beautiful. Are you a goddess? Are you a goddess? So beautiful. My phone number is..." He then repeated his phone number about ten times, before I mercifully arrived at my stop and quickly hopped/ran off the train.

CTM, believe me, if I were a goddess, I would have somehow used my power to make you disappear.