My Day in Court Part II

So quickly after my first court experience, I already got my judgment in the mail! In favor of: claimant (that's me baby).

You'd think that would be good news, but now begins the "long, arduous process" that my arbitrator described of actually collecting my money. I'm going to have to send the debtor a letter first (I'm thinking through their attorney), and if they don't pay after 30 days, I have to send a NYC Marshall or a sheriff over there. And even then, I won't necessarily get paid. I have to file paperwork to prevent them from selling off assets and spending money that's rightfully mine.

If only Ralph Edwards Productions was able to convince the defendant to appear on The People's Court with me, then I would've gotten paid regardless of the final judgment. Of course I was more than willing to appear on cheesy syndicated daytime TV, but I don't even know if they were able to find the people I was suing. I haven't been able to find them. Not recently, anyway.

So here's another research task at hand. Time to do a little digging. This time for a better cause than trying to date some dude.

My day in court

To be honest, most of my court-related experience to date has been with the food court in a variety of America's malls. I've served jury duty a couple of times, and I contested a transit ticket in Brooklyn once, but otherwise my life hasn't really intersected with the legal system all that much.

Last night I got to go to a real life Night Court, attending the hearing for a claim I filed in Small Claims Court against a former vendor who has refused to pay me for the last four months of freelance work I did for them. I was a little intimidated and probably waited longer than I should have to file the claim, but once I got there, I stopped being scared and started to have fun. I swear I was sitting next to Vinny Parco of Court TV's Parco PI fame, and when they were calling out all the names of the other claimants and defendants, we were totally cracking up (I mean, "Tuck It Away"?! PLEASE).They led dozens of us into a big courtroom like you see on TV, big pew-like benches, high ceilings, "IN GOD WE TRUST" on the facing wall...

I got called into a hearing with an arbitrator, and since the defendant didn't show up, he held an inquest to hear my side of the case...As someone who seriously considered attending law school and who wishes Henninger had a debate team, I really got a kick out of presenting my evidence and opening and closing arguments all in one fell swoop. I sort of wish I got to have my case heard in the actual courtroom full of people rather than in a private little office, but this way was far less nerve-wracking.

My arbitrator was a weird little man who said hilarious sarcastic stuff with the most deadpan face, never making eye contact with me, but I think he got my side of the story. Unfortunately, I have to wait two weeks for my judgment to be mailed to me, and even if it's in my favor I still have to figure out how to collect the money I'm owed, but this all feels good.

I like participating in the legal system. I've never deferred jury duty, and have shown up 2 or 3 times in both Brooklyn and Manhattan. The last time, of course, I was that person who asked a question during the voir dire that ended up getting nearly every juror dismissed because I basically shattered the defense's case. I was actually kind of bummed that I didn't get to serve on an actual trial, but I'm sure I will at some point in my life.

When I contested my transit ticket in Brooklyn 5 or 6 years ago, I was ready to defend my case with great flourish, but I didn't really get the chance. I'd been ticketed at Union Square for evading fare because I let some guy, whose Metrocard said "JUST USED" because he swiped it too many damn times, double-up with me in a vertical turnstile. We got busted by a plain-clothes transit cop and both got ticketed. In retrospect I don't really remember what my defense would have been, but at the time I was unemployed and had the time to go to court (and DIDN'T have the money to pay the ticket) so I figured what the hey.

Fortunately for me, I didn't have to say anything. They threw the case out because the ticket said I was seen "attempting" to evade fare but not that I actually evaded it. Hooray for technicalities! I love the law. This other story is just like mine, with a different happy ending.

The one thing about the legal system this time around for me is that if the judgment is in my favor, the defendant can choose to re-open the case if they had a good reason to not show up last night. But that's OK, that just means last night was a trial run and I get to present my case even better next time.

I've always said I've wanted to be a woman of many careers. Maybe attorney is still down the road for me...

Underneath the City (Hall)

There are many mysteries that lie beneath New York City, not the least of which are part of the transit system. I swear I feel the Second Avenue Subway rumbling beneath my apartment building (there are functional tracks). The Hoyt-Schermerhorn station in Brooklyn has a whole platform for unused tracks (as does the Delancey/Essex Street's JMZ line). A few years ago they discovered an entire tunnel under Atlantic Avenue in Brooklyn that you can only access now through a manhole.

The only subway station that I've seen closed since I've moved to the city was demolished as a result of the World Trade Center collapse, but there are a few others that are still standing. (The Transit Museum occupies such a station.) If you ride the 6 train downtown between 23rd St. and Union Square and press your face against the window, you can catch a glimpse of a very dirty 18th St. station. And if you stay on the 6 train at Brooklyn Bridge, the last stop, you might catch a glimpse of the closed City Hall station when the train turns around on the looped track to come back to Brooklyn Bridge on the uptown platform.

This weekend the Transit Museum hosted a guided tour through the old station, a much better look with the 11 chandeliers lit up. There are three skylights in major disrepair that also illuminate the platform, much of their original leaded glass shattered, blackout paint covering the remaining bits. When it comes down to it, it's a small station, only one platform, two entrances (one still filled with concrete), and a mezzanine with a big blank space where the ticket booth used to stand.

Another skylight above ticketing area, whose tar has been removed as part of the restoration of the station. Some of the bulbs need replacing but it gives a real indication of the original splendor of the station, something that was unusual for the IRT line even at the time.

View of the City Hall archway to the single staircase, leading up to the mezzanine, with the center skylight (and lead glass in tact).

As much as they've cleaned up the station, everything was still covered in black soot, and it's no wonder: the track is so curved that it not only creates a huge gap between the train and the platform, but also a horrible screeching sound that gives Union Square a run for its money for shattered eardrums. And steel dust. Eroded tracks. Black soot.

View of the platform facing downtown, with the gorgeous vaulted Guastavino arches looming above, illuminated by lit chandeliers.

It's too bad that the station was closed to the public in the 1940s, but it wasn't very popular back then. Brooklyn Bridge was more of a depot, a gateway to Brooklyn, and it was just steps away anyway (as are many of the train stations in Lower Manhattan, frankly). And Brooklyn Bridge could accommodate the longer 10-car trains, whereas City Hall's platform was too short (and not easily extendable).

There's a similar phenomenon with the South Ferry station, where for years you've had to be in the first few cars in order to get off there (as I experienced during my first trip to the Staten Island Ferry in 1997). They're actually doing major construction on that station to finally extend the platform...After 60 years...

The Transit Museum is hosting another of these tours in February, which costs only $20 but you have to be a member of the museum. Personally I think it was totally worth signing up for the membership just to get into the City Hall station, which I've been dreaming about for years.

If you want to do some exploring on the outside of the station, get out at the City Hall station on the R/W line, or the Brooklyn Bridge station on the 4/5/6 to Brooklyn Bridge. Walk downtown past City Hall, past the locked gates, to the public entrance of City Hall Park (either on the east or the west side). Towards the west side of City Hall, across the way from the police booth, there's a black subway entrance just like the green ones you see all over the city - we're pretty sure that's the functional "emergency exit" to the closed City Hall station. If you look on the sidewalk right by the police booth, and also in the grassy park to the left, you can also see skylights embedded into the concrete.

The most obvious of the skylights that you can see in City Hall park. This is the only one in the grass.

Here's a diagram that might help you find your way. We didn't find the round skylight over the ticket booth but there's such tight security over there, we didn't really have free roam over the park...

Fight Like a Girl

Many of you know that somewhere out there, Jim Kiernan has a wrestling video of me in my underwear in a Motel 6 in Albany. He hasn't put it up on YouTube yet, but he hasn't shared it with anyone, either. I don't even have a copy.

So I have a history of picking fights. When I first saw Gotham Girls Roller Derby, I really wanted to participate but I'm the worst rollerskater ever. I don't even think I could train to be good enough to try out.

But then I found out about the Pillow Fight League (PFL), which requires no skills except for the same kind of cute stage names and character costumes as roller derby, but without the rollerskates. Perfect. I saw their NYC debut tonight at Galapagos in Williamsburg, Brooklyn...

The Toronto girls totally kicked ass. Pillowfighting rules. I kind of wish I'd submitted myself for the amateur competition, but the only prize was the PFL DVD, and I wanted to survey the situation first and get my bearings before I actually participated. Besides, I had to go alone (how is it that I could find NO ONE to go with me tonight??!) and I'd rather bout in front of some of my friends who could report on my awesomeness. So in the future, if I could win some money in front of some of my friends, I'm totally in.

I have to say, in that back room in Brooklyn, this all felt very underground, like Fight Club or a cock fight or something. These girls - with names like Boozy Suzy and Betty Clock'er - are out to kill, and are cute to boot. I think in my regular wardrobe I have plenty of clothes to assemble into a costume (from fishnets to little frocks and everything in between).

Afterwards I foolishly attempted to grab dinner by myself at DuMont Burger but of course it was packed, so I took the J train to the LES and wound up back at Marshall Stack, for a Cuban sandwich and some delicious beer...It's nice to have a comfortable place to go again...

Underground History

It's a long weekend and I had a lot to do - a little work, a little play, but everything was something I could cross off my list of things I really wanted to do.

I started excavating my apartment to clean it up and put some stuff away and I ended up uncovering a big part of my past. My mother had given back all her mementos of my childhood: packed up all the essays, certificates, awards, ribbons, stories, and clippings in a big box and shipped them off to me. She didn't have any use for them but I feel a bit sentimental about them so I've kept them.

I've always gotten a lot of media attention. I have a knack for being in the right place at the right time. I was on TV a lot in high school when I used to speak at the Board of Education meetings on behalf of my favorite teacher who was about to lose his job, and I even ended up on The Montell Williams Show with a bunch of other kids from my high school because of racial conflicts we were experiencing. Mom didn't keep any of those tapes. She thinks she threw them out.

But I still have a whole bag full of clippings from the local newspaper. There were more than I remembered, actually - starting when I was in nursery school with a big full-color pic on the cover of the Lifestyle section of the Sunday paper, all the way up through senior year in high school when I graduated 2nd in my class and got a big scholarship to Colgate, and a feature on the back of the front section of the Saturday paper. Nice bookends to my time in Syracuse - with other awards, spelling bees, and "student of the month" features in between (not counting all the articles I actually wrote for the local paper as a teen reporter).

You can't find any of this stuff on the web. Nobody puts local news like that up on YouTube. The Post-Standard doesn't archive articles from that far back like the Times does (and who knows whether they even have them on microfiche?). So for now I have my own little time capsule of my life. I have to be the curator of my own little historical museum.

Fortunately when I'm interested in exploring worlds beyond my own, New York City is full of historical collections, not the least of which is the Transit Museum. I recently became a member (my first time supporting the arts in such an "official" way) so I could go to their upcoming tour of the abandoned City Hall station, but I figured I'd put my membership to good use and go back to the museum, which I haven't visited for several years.

Charles was a great tour guide and took us into a "staff only" area where we got to see the board that lights up and shows you were all the trains are in real time (and their still-working rotary phone back there, but Charles didn't have anybody to call just then, yeah). He also told us all about riding the old elevated trains (which can also run underground) out to Far Rockaway and took us on the very subway car that was featured in the film The French Connection. And name-checked his favorite movie, The Warriors, scoring points with me.

The old trains have been preserved pretty well, with new paint jobs in their original color schemes, working light bulbs and bells, straps still hanging above. The coolest thing is that they're on real working tracks with a live third rail, in an actual old abandoned subway station (on Schermerhorn between Boerum and Court St., where the HH shuttle used to run).

There were tons of kids there but I don't think they could really appreciate the tour, or, really, the history of it all. I suppose I wouldn't have been able to do when I was a kid, either. But then again, back then I was busy making history.

Put the blame on me, if you want to....

I'm 31 years old. I'd like to think I get better every year ("I am chaaaaanging...") but there are certain things intrinsic in me that aren't going to go away. At least not overnight.

I need a lot of attention, and I'm not shy about asking for it. I'm willing to take the bull by the horns. If I need or want something, I go get it. However, I recently asked my parents for some more attention and it may have destroyed what was left of our relationship. As part of a tirade I can't quite describe, I had to hear about what I was like as a baby - and let me tell you, from their perspective, it was not good. But the interesting thing is, I was pretty much exactly like I am now. So that tells me that I can't really be blamed...

Given my need for attention, and wanting to get what I want, last night I made the very conscious choice to break detox. I had become obsessed with the #s - how much I weighed, how much I lost, how much I gained over Christmas, how much I needed to lose - so much so that I'd forgotten that the whole goal of detox was to make my pants fit. Meanwhile I was pulling my loose pants up, agonizing over what kind of virgin cocktail to order at Temple Bar. (Turns out seltzer, mint and lime is quite a good option.)

So I broke detox and drank, blame me for being weak but there's no sense detoxing if it makes you miserable. It should be all about feeling good. And let me tell you, drinking the last remains of the Delirium Noel keg @ Marshall Stack felt good (as did the asparagus/goat cheese/truffle oil pressed sandwich, which really isn't that bad for you).

I don't think my love for jukeboxes is going to change anytime soon, either. They have a good one at Stack, lots of classic rock and a bit of funk and soul, enough to encourage me to pump in a buck to hear "Strange Magic" by ELO and "These Eyes" by The Guess Who, both songs I own. It's funny, people complain about paying $1/song on iTunes, but people will still pay $1 to hear 2 songs only once and not even own them. I'm happy to pay for my song downloads. I like owning my music. Blame me for being old-fashioned. I was probably like that as a baby.

After a great night and something like six hours at the bar, I weighed myself this morning. I'm a pound less than I was on Christmas Eve, which is my new detox low. That felt good too. Say what you want about numbers, but I had a goal, and I got what I wanted.

So apparently Baby Sandi was logical and analytical and capricious - cuddling one moment, crying another. She loved her daddy. She wanted attention but not too much. And whatever she wanted, she had better get it. Things haven't changed that much. But don't blame the baby.

In the mood...

It's a great weekend to be in the mood....for love...for the holidays...

I'm 13.5 lbs lighter and feeling strong and rejuvenated. Almost all the Christmas shopping is done, wrapping has begun, and work is almost over for the year.

Tonight we made what's hopefully our annual pilgrimage to Dyker Heights in Brooklyn, and although it wasn't snowball fight-worthy this year like last year, it was still magical in its competitive commercialism. Ah, the true spirit of Christmas...animatronic decorations and multi-colored lights.

I hear that Howard Beach's decorations might be better, but I'll believe it when I see it. I do think I'm going to check out the Bronx Zoo's holiday lights this year....

Bloodsuckers

There are people that suck the life out of you, and then there are insects that suck the blood out of you and make you itch. I got a little bit o' both in my life right now.

Apparently in St. Thomas there are sand flies that come out of, well, the sand and bite you and suck your blood. I am covered in welts. And, a week later, I am still itchy.

Between that and the Christmas tree, I'm real fun to be around.

The sand flies were just another one of the baffling things about St. Thomas. The Ritz resort also had an iguana beach where giant iguanas would come out and bake in the sun on the rocks. And if you stand there long enough, they'll walk right up to you.

I'm told that the ocean had a lot of living things swimming around in it, but without my glasses I had to just trust the reports of minnows and other creatures swirling about. I did spot a starfish on the ocean floor but we decided not to disturb it, so we didn't really get a closer look.

There were some cool parrots and hummingbirds at the peak of the Skyride, a tramway that takes you up a mountain to an observation point (actually, Paradise Point). It's sort of an enclosed ski lift - with three connected cars that ascend and descend together - located by where the cruise ships dock. It's really a lovely view and the birds were just a bonus.

We didn't stay for any of their crazy cocktail drinks, but I did manage to get a Christmas tree ornament before we left...It was the only piece of crap worth buying in the whole "downtown" area (even including all the pirate paraphernalia!).

No parasailing or snorkeling this trip but maybe next time. I'm ready to get into Christmas.

Only in the Caribbean...

I am way too low-class to deserve the kind of fantastic treatment I'm getting at the Ritz-Carlton Club in St. Thomas (U.S. Virgin Islands). We were supposed to stay in the regular resort but because of a mix-up, we were placed in the residential wing, which means I'm in a huge 2 BR suite, and have keycard access to a club room where there is free food 3x a day. And good food. And amazing service. And everybody says, "My pleasure," and somehow I think they mean it.

And what do I do? Play a game of Asshole, drink straight rum and get so drunk that I lose my room key.

I keep suspecting that I'm supposed to be tipping everybody but mostly people are just being nice. And letting me into my room @ 3 a.m.

And even though the beach here is small, the ocean is gorgeous and warm and the sky is clear with these huge white puffy clouds that turn dark gray when the moon shines behind them.

Before I came here, I kept saying how I'm not a lay-on-the-beach kind of person, but that's pretty much all I want to do. I can't really think of a reason to leave the resort, it's so nice (though I think we are going to take a weird ski lift tomorrow to see some mountaintop views of the island). Today I got a "Tranquility Massage" at the spa from Michelle, a Texas-born mom who moved to USVI when she sent her son off to college. I'd been getting massages so much @ the gym that I forgot how nice a spa can be.

So far, though, I'm not very interested in St. Thomas itself. The taxi ride from the airport was harrowing along a winding road with tons of hairpin turns, and everything we drove by looked pretty shitty. People like to shop here but honestly, they're all giving away so much free Cruzan rum (at the airport, at the hotel check-in....) that I don't need to buy booze, and I really don't want any beads or jewelry.

As nice as the weather is, it's really strange being here now because the hotel is decorated for Christmas and they're piping in all this Caribbean-flavored xmas music. It's really weirding me out. But at the spa today, I did think their evergreen branch/seashell decor was quite nice. And sparkly.

I'm still absorbing it all. I'm having a hard time adjusting. But for my first trip to the Caribbean, this is a pretty nice way to go....

...And the sun shines on the bay....

Ok I've lost the 4 lbs I gained in SF and then some, making my detox total 12.5 lbs. My posterior also feels stronger and strangely higher after walking up all those hills.

My pants fit too, at least, 3 out of 4 pairs. There's that one last pair I want to squeeze into, a pair that fit at this time last year.

In SF we took a lot of public transportation, which includes the cable car system (a tourist attraction, and rightfully so - it's quite thrilling), BART, and MUNI. While I was there I became obsessed with MUNI and its retro look - both in terms of its logo and also the actual stations, which reminded me of downtown Syracuse circa 1979. It was actually all very clean and well taken care of, so although it was old, renovation would only be for cosmetic purposes since everything was fully functional and quite pleasant.

Despite the convience of public transportation, we did our fair share of walking, including up a huge hill to see the crookedest street. That portion of Lombard St. makes its way into lots of video games, and it's no wonder. The hill's incline is so steep there that we wondered how the cars didn't flip over - until we saw the signs that strictly enforce parking at exactly 90 degrees.

Thankfully we didn't walk up Telegraph Hill to Coit Tower, but instead took the bus. We didn't see the wild parrots that live in the neighborhood but we did catch some really great panoramic views of the city from the top. San Francisco has some amazing cloud formations, or at least did while we were there, and it was very inspiring to look out over the water and see the Golden Gate Bridge, the Bay Bridge, the Ferry Building...

After that it was a bit disappointing to see how nothing Ghirardelli Square and Fisherman's Wharf are, but I did manage to snap a shot of In-N-Out Burger (another LA reference) in a very...touristy SF scenario. We also got to ride the F line streetcar which was cool. They have all kinds of different classic streetcars on the route including some from New Orleans, but the one we were on dated back to 1948 and was a smoooth ride over to the pier where we were catching our ferry to Alcatraz.

I know it sounds ridiculous but visiting Alcatraz was really a dream come true. I've always been a prison movie fan and have always been fascinated with prison politics, death row controversies, etc. Plus I like spooky places. We took a night tour of The Rock and although I didn't feel any real indication of hauntings, I was way creeped out, especially going into the pitch-black solitary confinement cell. Our night tour also took us upstairs to the hospital, where the walls were flaking with paint and every room was dark, save for an eerie lantern casting white light from the center of the room. The site has a history as both a military prison and a maximum security prison, so a lot went down there. It feels weird to take a tour of it with hundreds of other people, to gawk at the torture that people experienced, and then buy branded bars of soap and posters of mugshots. But I got a Christmas tree ornament anyway. The soap smelled horrible, but if it hadn't, I probably would have gotten that too.

We didn't shop a lot in SF but I got a few souvenirs, including a 7" vinyl single and the new John Legend CD from Rasputin, and more importantly, wine. We didn't want to check our bags on the plane so we had the Homewood Winery (the only place you can get their wine) ship our Flying Wizzbanger and Cabernet Sauvignon to the office. It should be arriving shortly. Homewood - with its generous tasting portions and intriguing varieties - was definitely the best winery on our day-long tour of Napa and Sonoma. Our bus also took us to the Larson Family Winery, Madonna Estate, and Viansa, which had some great wines and a lovely Tuscan marketplace where we got a nice lunch.

It's nice to know that seemingly cheesy touristy things actually work out quite well: not only was the "Woods + Wine" tour a great deal, but also full of adventure. Before you head out to wine country, you're first taken across the Golden Gate Bridge and stop for a photo opp, and then on to the redwood forest (spotting yet another prison, San Quentin, in Sausalito along the way). We did an hour-long hike in Muir Woods and stopped long enough to gawk at some of the oldest trees in the country, and a black-tailed deer that scuttled by. This is just stuff I've never seen before.

I really felt like I could live in SF, which is the first time I could say that about a city other than New York. I think first I have to visit again and see some of the stuff I missed (the Mission, SoMa, Pacific Heights, the Presidio, Berkeley). And next time I'm definitely walking across the Golden Gate Bridge. If I'm lucky there'll be an earthquake so I can feel it sway 25 feet. I probably won't jump off, even though it's famous for that.