Ticket - The Thrilling Conclusion

Did I mention that I got my ticket dismissed? I did! The system works! Now to find the real killers!

It was deeply satisfying. I met my friend Dean the Loy-yah at traffic court last Friday afternoon. If you've been to traffic court in New Orleans (or anywhere) you know the place: cheap furniture, bare halls, scum of the earth. We went into the actual court room to wait for the city attorney to show up.

"Don't make eye contact or you might have to talk to someone," Dean advised. I kept my eyes down and closely watched our umbrellas.

And it wasn't just a traffic court, either; there were DWI cases and even a few prisoners in the orange OPP jumpsuits waiting to go before the judge. I was mortified. I got a little bitty speeding ticket and there I was, surrounded by axe murderers, drunks and granny shaggers.

Dean went into the back room to meet with the city's counsel. He came back out five minutes later.

"You're taken care of."

Five minutes after that Dean came out of the clerk's office with a piece of paper saying the city wasn't going to pursue the ticket. Innocent! Innocent!

"The city attorney came in," Dean told me on the way out, "and said, 'okay, lawyers, give me your tickets.' I gave it to him and he dismissed them all."

"Why did they throw it out?" I asked Dean when we were outside.

"Honestly? Because you had a lawyer. So either you were willing to pay your way out of trouble or you were actually innocent. You're not worth the trouble."

So there's a lesson to you: if you get a speeding ticket in New Orleans, weigh how much it will cost against the price of a lawyer. It might just be cheaper to take it to court!

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Had a burrito craving at lunch, so I was at the Taco Bell on Claiborne, eavesdropping on the two women sitting next to me. They were both youngish, artsy-fartsy hipster types and they were deep in conversation.

And it was so, so dull. They talked about dreams ("I dreamed I went to a thrift store out in the middle of nowhere and they had so much stuff!"), and getting someone else to paint a picture, and going to pick out Halloween costumes, and buying shoes...

Honestly. I'm 32 years old, and in all that time I've never has such a dull, earnest conversation. Kudos, girls - you suck!