I Said, She Said, Then I Lost Like Everyone Else

Two others plead their cases before I did in room 113 of the Central Hearing Facility at 440 W. Superior this morning. Flush with victory, Judge Deirdre C. was 2-0 when I got to the podium, nervous, clutching five exhibits, all photographs of the west side of Hoyne at Division, where I had parked late Friday evening. The Do Division Street Festival was the following morning, and while there were temporary 'no parking' signs on the east side of Hoyne, on the west side there was only one sign, and it was obscured by leaves on a tree to which the sign was affixed.

Despite the fact the photographs show poles on both sides of the tree, with none showing a visible no parking sign, JudgeD asked why I did not have shots of the entire street. I told her that in the background of one shot you can see that it's Division Street. I also explained I did not have much time to take the shots. I mistakenly thought that the two bare, sign-less poles on either side of the tree would be ample enough evidence.


Admittedly, l was running low on time on Saturday morning so that I could get my car from the pound on the west side, and take photographs of something, and someone much more important than street poles, and trees: my young cousin on her bat mitzvah day. I had been looking forward to photographing the event for the past year, and I arrived late to it due to the towing, and frantic retrieval of my car. As I spoke to JudgeD, my voice wavered, and I was internally chiding myself for losing my cool, as usual, and getting too emotional thinking about the stress experienced from disappointing my cousin, and missing her rehearsal. As there are no cameras allowed during a bat mitzvah service, many photographers take pictures during the pre-ceremony rehearsal.

In response to JudgeD saying that she cannot see the entire street in the photographs, to determine which street it is, I said there is an identifying mural at Division and Hoyne, visible in the background, to which she snapped, "There are murals everywhere."

She also challenged why I had two different sources of evidence. I noted that the camera on my phone could not get a wider shot to show the poles, so my boyfriend ran upstairs to get his camera, which supplied the other sources of evidence.


Then, I made the now very regrettable mistake of babbling about how it was a shame this happened, because as a contractor to the chamber of commerce I had been writing about the Do Division festival for weeks, and was looking forward to it...

JudgeD assumed I was writing for a newspaper, and I corrected her and said no, it is just a newsletter. She said I should have known about the no parking zones if I had been writing about it, and I told her that it was not a real story, and just a blurb about the event coming up, and it did not go into that level of detail about parking, etc. I'll have to write a few weeks of newsletters to make up the cost of this darn ticket, which makes me even angrier at myself for even mentioning the newsletter at all, though I brought it up to illustrate how I am a huge fan of this street festival, and my neighborhood. Despite the fact I sound like a raving lunatic right now, I love it here.

As JudgeD couldn't see the entire street in the photos, I lost my case, and am out $160. She wouldn't let me get another word in, and said I can file an appeal, though apparently no new evidence can be brought to the appeal, so I am wondering what the point of that is. The cost to file an appeal is $124, though the filing fee is waived to students, the disabled, and the unemployed. I am two of the three.

In the grand scheme of things it's just money, and there's no sense in being upset over it, or at least that's what I keep telling myself, along with a mental note to be grateful for my health, and energy, which allows me to be strong in tough times when people are losing homes, and businesses, and struggling to feed children. Suburban fathers are killing themselves over financial duress, and torching their homes, newspapers are folding, cities are bankrupt, respected actors are hanging themselves, our new president just starred in a prime time reality TV special about a day-in-the-life of his presidency, which makes our society seem even more surreal, absurd, and MySpacey than it already is, and in some areas of my neighborhood there are more empty than occupied storefronts, with each shop closing a dagger into the heart of a small business owner's dream. The polish on our country is tarnishing fast these days, and now, more than ever, I am thankful for my family, and friends, and cat, and A's dog sleeping beside my feet as I type this, and to books, music, comedy, the therapeutic powers of writing, sunny days, and to all the sweet things that make life worth living outside of the shitty stuff like this morning in court, when JudgeD headed off to her lunch break smug with a 3-0 record for the morning. A casino in Gary has better odds than this central hearing facility.

Faces like JudgeD's are just faces, though now after writing this vent I am finally relaxed, and slowly erasing the image of her face from my mind, hopefully for good, and forever. Though she claimed in her little intro speech that she is an independent contractor and not on either the side of the city or the people, it is clear she is on the side of the city. What, or whom does she see when she looks in the mirror each morning? Can she possibly feel good about cutting people off, and siding with a city that is so unspeakably corrupt? After the adventure in court I read Ben Joravsky's story in the Reader about the latest Olympic debacle, that being Douglas Park which was just remodeled to the tune of $30 million using taxpayer dollars. If the Olympic bid gets approved in the fall the plan is to raze the new park to build a bicycle racing track, despite the fact the people in the neighborhood were promised a new swimming pool in that spot, and that $30 million will go down the drain, only to spend more millions- of the people's money.

My heart dropped reading that article, and I felt guilty for my small little bitchy voice protesting a $160 ticket, when such bigger, and more evil forces spending millions upon millions of taxpayer's dollars are literally at play, threatening to demolish entire neighborhoods for the sake of one big dog, and pony show in 2016 that will benefit tourism, and not much else. To use a horrible analogy I'll probably delete in the morning along with this blog, it's like the smallest and most petite anime/comic character being f*cked from behind with an elephant dick, page after page after page until the ink runs dry, or the press runs out of money to publish the story, and everyone doesn't care because they're too busy celebrating the next new Wal-Mart, or watching So, You Think You Can Dance, which is actually a pretty cool show. There, I said it.

Am I the only one in this city thinking that if I had any sense, I'd move to the hills, or sell my car to avoid parking anywhere ever again? In the immediate future, though, the plan is to sleep. It's free. Whew!

"Conscience doth make cowards of us all."- WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE, Hamlet