V-Day Part I

The day started inauspiciously. I cut my nose shaving. I bit my cheek. There will be blood. I broke a glass. I sat in 141 Livingston for four hours, doing my civic duty, which was mostly just adjusting my ass. But wait, I got two peanut M&Ms from the vending machine for the price of one. That never happens. Things were looking up. Just before the 1pm lunch hour, we were all dismissed. No cases, evidently. In the clear now for 8 years (2 for the Federales).

A real mix of Brooklyn in evidence up there in Room 305. Spanish and Chinese speakers quite cut out of the whole process, unable to follow the basic procedures. I have to say, the upper middle class white people, (a demographic I suppose I’d have to count myself in, minus the bank account) had this look of disdain and arrogance about them that was quite off-putting; I was happy to see several of them sent back to their seats when they tried to weasel out of service. A bombastic broad from Bay Ridge, (a middle school teacher we all learned; we learned everything she said since she was broadcasting, as if she was in the classroom), kept saying “Are we done yet” “Are we there yet?” She was the kind of person you’d leave on the side of the road before driving off. She did redeem herself when she shot down some air-headed technocrat who whined, “why can’t we do this at home; everybody has a computer and we can hear the evidence through video streaming.”

Now it's off to be really bloodied like the martyred saint of the day...