Sitting in the Dark

Every Tuesday and Thursday at 4:00 it seems that court is adjourned. This fact would mean little to me expect that the courtroom is now in my office. They have stored my coworker Evan and I down in the far end of the building. We are now housed in the old youth center, which we shared with the senior citizens on Tuesday’s and Thursday’s mornings. The youth center is a 2,000 square foot room with an accordion wall separating our side (the old computer lab) from those areas frequented by the rest of the world. We have been down here since January, out of sight and out of mind. Not much happens out here in the antipodes. That is except for Tuesday’s and Thursday’s, it used to be that at 9 o’clock a bevy of old ladies would descend outside our office and exercise ~ sort of.

This “exercise” would consist of talking, listening to Dean Martin, Tommy Dorsey, sometimes the Righteous Brothers, while walking in circles twirling your hands, after an exhausting hour of this, all would become quite, except for broken, labored breathing. Stepping beyond the veil, past the accordion wall, one would be greeted one of the funniest sights to be seen in City Hall. This group of grandmothers, valiantly trying to do wall sits. I don’t know if you are familiar with this particular form of self abuse dear reader. I’m sure that your mind, being pure as the driven snow, would never – could never, conceive such an activity. The wall sit is where the victim is made to place his or her back flat against a wall or other broad vertical surface, sliding down said surface until his or her thighs run parallel to the floor, then they are forced to maintain this naturally untenable position for as long as they possible can. Cruel, I know. Yet the sight of 7 old ladies just utterly exhausted, totally spent, desperately trying to hold themselves up against the wall, is so . . . . so . . . . . . . absolutely funny, that it takes all my strength not to laugh I pass by.

But I’m getting sidetracked, this entry is about sitting in the dark not about geriatric exercise routines. But to tell you why I’m sitting in the dark I need to tell you about a leaky parking garage. The parking garage beneath city hall leaks, dripping mineral deposits on cars, all while weakening the substructure. To fix this problem a waterproof membrane is being place down over the parking garage, and pavers are being installed over this. All in all a noisy process, so noisy that court which usually meets downstairs on Tuesday’s and Thursday’s had to be moved to the Youth Center. We were not consulted in this, the idea of walking thru court to get to ones office is . . . . . well . . . . . you try it for a month and tell me. You might think that having court in your office would be entertaining, that you could sit in the back and hold up signs, giving your verdict. It’s not. It is boring. I show up for work at 8, and all ready there are people there. At 8:30 the lawyers show up to defend anyone that needs a lawyer. Some are cool some are slimy. Then at 9 the judge comes in, here is where you think that the fun would start – no. Its just boring, the judge mumbles, the defendants mumble, the lawyers mumble. Me and my coworker whisper. We all keep this up for a few hours – the whispering and mumbling till court is adjourned. The defendants leave, the judge leaves, the clerk tides up and on the way out - at four - without fail, turns off the lights, plunging Evan and myself into Egyptian-like darkness.