Last October I picked up a speeding ticket from a municipal speed trap in central New Jersey. Twenty-three over the limit. For NJ, that’s expensive both in fines and insurance hikes so I decided to fight. My record’s squeaky clean – well, up to then, anyway – so I figured it was worth a shot. And today I had my day in court.
I arrived a good quarter hour before the 9AM listed on the court notice, but the prosecutor didn’t show up until 9:30. We spoke some and arrived at a simple binary choice: plead to a reduced charge (fourteen over) or go to trial. I had been speeding… and I wasn’t feeling that lucky… so I took the reduction.
Half an hour later I found myself at the court entrance, facing two sentries (female police officers) and a metal detector. I emptied my pockets. Change, phone, chained wallet, blade, rings, pen, watch… all went into the tray for inspection. Oops – the blade had to go out to the car, silly me. Load up my stuff, leave and come back, empty out again. The portal still wasn’t happy; it was time to get wanded. Standing there, legs spread, arms oustretched, gazing out the window while everyone looked on… What was left? My earring? Check. What else? Only the rivets in my Levis remained. Can’t be too careful, I always say. I just might remove my jeans and beat the judge with ’em. Finally satisfied with my threat level, my entry was permitted. I loaded up my stuff yet again, went inside and took a seat.
The judge arrived a quarter hour later. We all quietly listened to his spiel and then he began calling the calendar. I was #3. I walked to the front of the courtroom while the judge read the plea I signed earlier. I said all of two words, both “yes”. The judge accepted the plea, pronounced the fine and then I was off to pay. I used a credit card, for the rebates.
It always ends like that in NJ. You pay.
Don’t you forget that, if you decide to come to the Garden State. And if you need to go to court, leave your weapons in the car.
