6/29/2006 11:42:00 PM|W|P|amy|W|P|In a strange way, I feel a little more American after my court appearance yesterday. THE PEOPLE OF NEW YORK STATE VS. AMY MIDDLETON, read the summons. That's right. A force to be reckoned with, I arrived promptly at 9:30 in my Sunday best.
You may not know what it's like to go to court, so for those who choose to abide by the law*, let me explain what it's like to fight it. First I stood in a post-office-style line that was far more efficient than any post office line I've ever been in. Within minutes the next available window was tolling for me; I handed in my summons, printed my name on a piece of paper, and was directed to Courtroom 2.
Courtroom 2 had several dozen wooden pews, and was filled to near-capacity when I entered. I found a seat, stood with my fellow outlaws when the judge entered a few minutes later, and sat back down to watch guy after guy get called to the bench. Vending without a proper license, public urination, disturbing the peace...
There were three or four attorneys who would take turns before the judge. The attorney would argue on behalf of the defendant without the defendant ever saying anything. That threw me off. The night before, I had done my best to research possible outcomes of the trial, which are dismissal, ACD, and trial. I wasn't sure how the attorney could appeal to the judge without having spoken to the defendant, and I was a little worried that I had missed a step somewhere, but I just sat and read Lance Armstrong's autobiography and didn't think much about it. As Lance began preparing for his first post-cancer Tour, my name was called. I put the book in my backpack and approached the bench.
"Your honor, I suggest that this be dismissed..." said the bright attorney on my right. He started to say something else as he ruffled some papers, and the judge said, "ACD," and that was it. It seemed awfully fast, and I hadn't been asked to testify or say ANYTHING. I turned to the attorney and asked, "what?" He explained that the records would be sealed for six months and then destroyed. "You're free to go," he said. So I did.
It was a waste of time, taxpayer money, resources, and all the rest. But I'm glad about the experience. It felt like a field trip...I got to see the inside of a court room. But more than that, I got to participate in it. It was a sobering but respectful environment, and people worked on my behalf to ensure that justice was served. What I'm saying is ultimately this: I think I prefer court to the post office.
*The law I broke was crossing through Morningside Park at 10:15pm, when apparently the park closed at 10pm.|W|P|115164456737714513|W|P|MISDEMEANOR'ed!!!|W|P|orangewalk@gmail.com6/27/2006 09:30:00 PM|W|P|amy|W|P|
My youngest brother is on the phone with me, explaining the trade off in the size of the rear sprocket and the corresponding speed or power. I have no idea what he's talking about. I'm taking notes, I'm looking at diagrams, but all pictures of chains look the same to me, and no matter how intuitive this is supposed to be, I'm not that mechanically-oriented. If it were an algebra problem or an excel formula I'd be all over it, but I haven't yet wrapped my mind around the abacus of the bicycle. I will be slow and intimidated until I do.
I suppose this is the "honeymoon phase" of bike ownership. I committed on Saturday, for better or for worse, to last year's model of the Trek 1500. My friend Marcus got me a good deal on it--a huge relief, since at that point my biggest fear was the financial consequence of buying a new light-weight road bike. I'm happy with the purchase but I'm wondering now if I EVER knew how to shift properly. It seems like I had to; I used to ride a bike in college and to work. Yet my awkward interactions with the Shimano Total Integration system yesterday would suggest otherwise. I hope we can overcome this petty misunderstanding and start working as a team in short order.
for the record:
I decided to get a bike after Jen Nuckols suggested a cross-country road trip and it sounded way more appealing than a 2-month-kiss-your-job-goodbye scheme should sound.
Everyone has his opinion; gather enough (from totally different groups) and you start to collect a valid and useful sample.
It's very important to people to know you've thought of everything, even when thinking of everything has absolutely no impact on your decision.
"Skirt month" is an unfortunate month to coincide with "research and buy a bike month."
My friend Jessica suggested naming the bike "The Yang" and after dozens of worse ideas, I really liked it. So far, we are the only ones who think it's a good name.|W|P|115145970819181884|W|P|The Yang|W|P|orangewalk@gmail.com6/05/2006 01:17:00 PM|W|P|amy|W|P|Salad month made me a better person. I took more Fairway Trips, consequently introducing others to Fairway. I now have an entire desk drawer at work reserved for salad toppings and foods to keep me from starving before and after eating salad. you're welcome, emergency preparedness. Perhaps most noteably, I managed to keep the same g-chat screen name for an entire month.
June doesn't lend itself to wholesome screen names, but my "hello world" responder was apparently disappointing. (please note that i really do have a geek club, and admittance is contingent upon thinking "hello world" jokes are funny.)
coworker: original saying
me: you can join the geek club.
coworker: happy salad month is over, what is this month?
me: skirt month.
coworker: that is a lot of skirts
me: or, one skirt 30 times.
Jessica says I'm sure to impress the folks at the office this way:
"especially if you wore the SAME skirt for 30 days
it is not unlike the man who lived in a fish bowl for a week
an experiment in human stamina."
yes, i'd like to think of myself as a daredevil. a woman who takes meaningful risks for the good of public entertainment and/or ridicule. one who stands as a lighthouse, defying our previously-accepted "limits" of human strength and endurance. prepare yo-selves, new york. amy is here and she's dressing herself.|W|P|114952889408395877|W|P|on becoming david blaine|W|P|orangewalk@gmail.com
My youngest brother is on the phone with me, explaining the trade off in the size of the rear sprocket and the corresponding speed or power. I have no idea what he's talking about. I'm taking notes, I'm looking at diagrams, but all pictures of chains look the same to me, and no matter how intuitive this is supposed to be, I'm not that mechanically-oriented. If it were an algebra problem or an excel formula I'd be all over it, but I haven't yet wrapped my mind around the abacus of the bicycle. I will be slow and intimidated until I do.
I suppose this is the "honeymoon phase" of bike ownership. I committed on Saturday, for better or for worse, to last year's model of the Trek 1500. My friend Marcus got me a good deal on it--a huge relief, since at that point my biggest fear was the financial consequence of buying a new light-weight road bike. I'm happy with the purchase but I'm wondering now if I EVER knew how to shift properly. It seems like I had to; I used to ride a bike in college and to work. Yet my awkward interactions with the Shimano Total Integration system yesterday would suggest otherwise. I hope we can overcome this petty misunderstanding and start working as a team in short order.
for the record:
I decided to get a bike after Jen Nuckols suggested a cross-country road trip and it sounded way more appealing than a 2-month-kiss-your-job-goodbye scheme should sound.
Everyone has his opinion; gather enough (from totally different groups) and you start to collect a valid and useful sample.
It's very important to people to know you've thought of everything, even when thinking of everything has absolutely no impact on your decision.
"Skirt month" is an unfortunate month to coincide with "research and buy a bike month."
My friend Jessica suggested naming the bike "The Yang" and after dozens of worse ideas, I really liked it. So far, we are the only ones who think it's a good name.|W|P|115145970819181884|W|P|The Yang|W|P|orangewalk@gmail.com