father rapers and mother stabbers

i know i have grown up sheltered and spoiled. but i always figured i was pretty wolrdly, like i can get adventurous with my vernacular sometimes and i've sampled a lot of different cultural cuisines. i can appreciate turd art, african literature (they write? who knew?), bizzare tribal rituals and so forth. i have been educated in the liberal arts and i may be from the hamptons, but damn you i support labor unions.

today, the gulf between me and the rest of society was so poignantly illustrated when i went to lowell district court.
some of you are already uh-huhing and sucking in breath, feeling in the pit of your stomach what i'm getting at. if you're all, "what's she mean? i thought the decor was rather fresh," then you are probably one of the rest of society.

i had to go get proof that a hearing date for my <3 first speeding ticket ever <3 never reached me, because the clerk's office is retarded and the postal service, mentally crippled. later i had to take that proof to the worcester RMV, where the hearing officer was making his rounds (which RMV will he be at tomorrow? nobody knows! it's like playing plinko on the price is right!). i was actually dreading the RMV, but that was a speedy 20 minute in-out process where i got barked at by disinterested overweight middle-aged men whose patina of patronization barely masked their abhorration of all things tall, blond, and confused.

but no, the lowell court was...eye-opening. first of all, i was in a rush and without my obligatory morning coffee. ask me how drving the wrong way up a one-way street *with traffic* feels. eventually i gave up and parked, having ascertained that finding anything in lowell is easier on foot (albeit probably more hazardous).
i tried to ask a drunk homeless woman wearing fuchsia lipstick where the courthouse was, and she pleaded the 5th. i was like, sure you don't know where it is, you vagrant slut. anyway, when i came in they had airport-like security. they asked me in disbelief, "why is this bag so heavy?" and while i wanted to say, because it's a purse you bitch, and it's how i carry all the dead babies, i just shrugged and gave the suburban white-girl smile. they took my mp3 player away! but only after insisting i was lying and had 3 cell phones in my bag. one of which turned out to be said mp3 player, the other was my wallet, and the third, a hairclip. but after that imbroglio, they were watching me, hardened felon that i am.

i found the clerk's office and was confronted with a dilemma in line choice. CRIMINAL. CIVIL. SMALL CLAIMS. RESTRAINING ORDERS (they fast-track you, i guess?). MOTOR VEHICLES. ah yes, i am here because of driving, certainly that is my line. but no; i was informed to go wait with the people of dubious ethnic background in the CRIMINAL line. not only was i the only white person in there (besides the ABO gum-snapping clerk's assistants sporting pole-dancing couture), but i was the only person in the CRIMINAL line without a drug, alcohol, or rogue chromosome-related birth defect. i had a conversation with a few of them and it wasn't half bad; i guess poor people can smile and remark on the weather too.

so it's the end of the day and i only had to use 2 hours' vacation time for what seemed like a day in the life of sisyphus. i still have my license, all my personal property has been returned to me and all my cash is still in my wallet. and i'm no further along than i would have been, had the clerk not chopped off half my hyphenated name. now i'm just waiting for my next hearing date, and in august i'm doing a legal name change and putting a permanent halt to this bullshit.

but today has taught me something. i'm a spoiled, naive brat. and thank god.