A Good Show

by .....© 1997 by John F. Clennan, All Rights Reserved

Dedicated to the traffic court judges of North America. Even JAGIU@WebTV.Net may smile

Long Island Traffic Violations Bureau was packed at 8:30 a.m. as ticket motorists waited nervously for the Administrative law Judge to take the bench. Every bench was filed in the overgrown living room and as the clock ticketed past 8:30 the motorists strained for the usual clump...clump...clump sound of shoes striking the tile floor which signalled the beginning of the court day.

At 8:30 a young woman entered the room. Every man's eye's fell upon her, although by no means was she the most beautiful woman present.

Motorists who contested tickets fell into three groups: the first and largest prayed for the cop to fail to appear; some with defenses brought charts and diagrams or even lawyers like me with them. The third tried to act eccentric... in hopes that their idiosyncracies would stave the judges wrath.

Most were doomed to disappointment, although there were a few good shows.

The girl offered her license and ticket to the court clerk, a motherly looking white haired lady whose pleasant smile melted into a gasp.

Every man's eyes watched her; every woman's mouth fell as the girl walked erect to the far side of the room. Her face was plain, her short brown hair lacked any luster, nor was she particularly well endowed or well proportioned. Yet it was readily evident that whatever virtues she might have otherwise concealed were plainly revealed by a sheer tight fitting fabric and lack of underwear.

Some tried to look away. Some stared in consternation at her. She held the irresistible attraction of the bloody scene of a bad auto accident. I think they were impressed more with her sheer audaciousness, than with her visible assets.

Around 8:40 am, the motorists still strained for the Judge's authoritative clump...clump...clump in between penetrating glances at the young motorist leaning against the wall with her arms at her side and her face staring blankly back.

Soon a sound came rumbling from the back, but it was not the familiar clump..clump...clump regular visitors to the traffic court had become used to, but the click...click... click of high heels.

A neatly coffed dark haired woman took the bench and began to look from her right to left as she started the customary introduction: "Good morning. I'm Judge Ellen Smith. All of you have entered pleas of Not Guilty as is your right." The Judge deliberately paused staring directly in the center of the room and continued her scan of the courtroom. "However some may wish to change that plea and offer an explanation. I'll take those guilty pleas first before I begin tri..." Eyes now widened in shock had reached the girl standing along the far wall. The Judge studied her from head to toe in disbelief.

Silence gripped the courtroom. Everyone started to laugh. A stupid smile peered from the corner of the young motorist's mouth as she mechanically folded her arms over her rather flat chest.

The Judge rapped the gavel several times and said to the young lady, "I imagine I'll take your guilty plea first.. And for God's sake get some clothes on... after you're done... You'll catch your death of cold."