I have learned a few valuable little things today about your adventures to the county courthouse.
The first thing I learned was that the county courthouse and the federal courthouse are two very different things and when you sit and argue this with your husband for an hour and then end up at the wrong one…. you feel like an idiot.
“It’s up there on the left right next to the art museum, you dipshit.”
“Yeah, but the directions I got off MapQuest have me going straight ahead and then making a right.”
“Yeah, well MapQuest can suck my ass. I KNOW where we are going.”
And then I got us terribly lost. Thank god we had MapQuest-ed so we could back track and figure it out.
The next lesson I learned was that finding a parking space within a mile of the courthouse on a weekday is next to impossible. Really. You may as well go in the night and just camp out. It’s fucking ridiculous. You have no idea how badly I wished I was handicapped today.
The next valuable lesson was this:
Never, ever wear a gigantic, three pound, metal hair clip to the courthouse. Seriously. I did this and was wanded about 85 times going through security. Not that I didn’t enjoy it a great deal, but still.
Worse yet, I was a nervous wreck and had time to kill between filing and our hearing with the judge. As a result of nerves and long waits, I felt the need to stand outside with all the bums and chain smoke which had me coming and going through those goddamned metal detectors more than anything else I did today.
Almost more importantly than not wearing the big, honkin’ hair clip is a little advice to our servicemen:
Don’t show up at the courthouse in uniform. Dean was in uniform and this made everyone want to talk to him. The bums flocked to him to discuss the state if disarray in the world right now and I stood there idly counting the various breeds of body lice and trying to guess which direction this one guy’s glass eye was going to roll next.
As a former street urchin, I had finally and for the first time in years felt at home there amongst my people. But they made me late.
We get upstairs and are sitting outside of the courtroom waiting for our judge to return from lunch and proceed and I have a notebook out and am playing hangman with Dean. For some reason, I have made the word “fuckerlicious” and he is having a hell of a time getting it solved.
And then some strange woman walks up, looks over my shoulder and says, “Oh. Fuckerlicious. That’s an easy one.”
Finally we are called in to see the judge and we plead our case and are granted a temporary order of protection from the maniac and we will all appear in front of him again in two weeks. Then, we come home and lo and behold Dean’s work is calling as they have just devised another plan of attack to shut us up and keep us nice and quiet:
They have decided to chapter him out of the Army.
So this is how it’s being played now. And, hooooo-daddy are they ever working fast, fast, fast. It would appear to
my congressman me that the military is trying to get rid of us before we can say something.
Well, we may be forced to go but we will not be going quietly. We have a duty to this country that when those in control are up to no good then we need to stand up and do something about it.
Besides… I just LOVE the ulcer that I’ve got.
Naturally, we shall be going to trial defense to get us a lawyer but we’d really rather have a civilian attorney which is just too damned expensive. The ACLU gave me a bunch of phone numbers of pro-bono lawyers and so we’ll make some calls this week and see what we can find out. Our JAG attorney has been so very wonderful but he doesn’t work trial defense so…. it’s onto someone new.
We shall see how it goes. It is merely another addition to the already long list of things we are dealing with legally.
I wonder where the fuck we’re going to live when the Army throws us out on our asses.