I recently got a parking ticket at the airport, to which I wish to plead Not Guilty. Well. What a work out to get a Trial Date.
Doer has three or four stupid/lazy/slow/dawdling/thickheaded Justices of the Peace / Magistrates /Clerks / Dumbasses taking up space at 373 Broadway, pretending to look after people coming in to see about tickets.
Of the five or six windows there, only two were open when I got there. However, the two women were engaged in a conversation with each other and seemed totally oblivious to the 15 or so people that were waiting to see someone.
After watching them talk for a few minutes, I walked over to them, and in a fairly loud but polite voice, asked if anybody worked here.
One said that I would have to take a number and wait in line. Duh. I already had a number and was waiting in line.
But this did break-up the party and get her "working" again.
When I turned away, two Sheriff's Officers in the corner had the biggest smiles on their faces that I have ever seen on a face.
Seems like the Ladies of the Court at 373 couldn't give a fcuk about the people in front of them.
I was there 45 minutes before I could get a date for court the second time. The first time I was there, I waited over half an hour before I was told that I had to get my wife's signature because the car is in her name.
So, it's not really surprising that a straight-forward and simple thing such as a 'speed zone' can cause so much trouble.
Go Doer Go!!! (I don't mean that in a rah-rah fashion eh.)