I know now that I shouldn't have laughed at the judge, but I was drunk and everything hit me like a joke.  I had been pulled over for doing 40 mph in a 30 mile an hour zone and I thought it was kind of bullshit, but the truth is, I was so drunk I could have been doing 80 and I really wouldn't have known it.

             The funny thing was, I was trying to get home and had ripped through a dozen red lights before the cop pulled me over for speeding.  Every one of those blown red lights could have had a more serious result than me doing ten miles over the limit, but you know how it goes, you never get caught for the right reasons.

So the cop pulled me over and I remember asking her what I had done, figuring she had been tracking me blowing through all those  red lights, but when she said I was speeding,  going ten miles over the limit, I kind of laughed and said, "Is that all?"

She didn't find it funny.  It was one in the morning and when she asked to see my driver's license I leaned down and almost threw up.  I'd been drinking all night and most of the day.  In my defense, it was a Saturday, so it wasn't like I was blowing off work to get loaded.  I just had a few pops because I felt like it and, oh, yeah, my girlfriend had called me in the morning and said she had found another guy and that it was nice knowing me, whatever.

             So I wasn't in the best of moods and I decided the best way to forget her was to go down to Lou's on 38th Street, near Market.  Oh, yeah, I was living in Philadelphia on 17th and Naudain so I wasn't super far away from home when I got pulled over by the sweet looking little cop who wound up lacking a sense of humor.

So I didn't throw up, but I sort of wobbled when I handed her my license, which I think gave her the bright idea of giving me a breathalyzer test.  I wasn't too happy about it, and told her I'd rather not take the test.  I think I said something like, "If you don't mind, officer, I'd rather not take the test. You see, I've been drinking."  And then I laughed again, thinking that I was being hilarious.

She didn't laugh and had me get out of the car.  I had to blow into a tube and then she asked me to walk a straight line, which I did.  Everything was going fine, until I threw up on her shoes and to get away from the vomit I stopped walking in a straight line.  When she said she was taking me in, I objected.  Again, my memory's not so clear, but I think what I said to her was, "I can walk a straight line, officer, I just don't want to step into my own vomit.  That's why I swayed a little bit."

She just nodded, took my car keys, and arrested me.

As we were driving to the station I remember telling her how clean I thought the back of her squad car was, and that I had thought maybe someday I'd be a cop, but that I heard the pay sucked.  I also asked her about my car, which she said I'd have to ask a friend to pick up at the pound, as she was having it towed there for the night.

I remember thinking the City of Philadelphia was spending too much time and resources on a guy like me, when we pulled into the station.  

           "This is all completely unnecessary," I said, "I appreciate your concern but I'm fine and would like to go home if you don't mind." All the while she was pushing me into a little holding cell.

           They took my shoelaces out of my shoes and took my belt, before shutting the door on me.  Evidently they were afraid I'd kill myself with my shoelaces or my belt, but it hadn't occurred to me to do that and I spent the next hour or so wondering how it would be possible to kill yourself with shoelaces.  A belt, yes,  Shoelaces, I don't think so.

About an hour into it, I was thirsty so I started calling out to the cops in the other room, asking if they could send over something to drink, preferably a fine whiskey, but that I'd take anything, even water.

Nobody laughed but me, but rather than take the temperature of the room and realize that no one was finding me funny, I sort of kept on going.

           A few minutes later, a different cop unlocked my cell door and, after  putting cuffs back on me, led me to Philadelphia Night Court.  I didn't even know such a court existed, but I was amused just the same.

I'd seen reruns of  a TV show called "Night Court" when I was younger, and compared everyone I saw to the actors on that show.  No one looked like any of them.

When I got to the judge, I was told that I could get an attorney or one would be appointed for me.

I didn't particularly give a damn either way and figured my situation was bad but not that serious, so I took the court appointed public defender and sat down.  My PD told me that I would be released in the morning, and so the worst that was going to happen to me was that I'd spend the rest of the night in jail.  I wasn't happy about it, but figured it would make a good story to tell someday.  

A half hour later, when my preliminary hearing was called, I shuffled up to the front of the court with my PD, and slumped down on my chair.  

            When the judge called my name, I gave a wave, and said, "Present," not knowing that I wasn't supposed to say anything.  My public defender looked at  me like I was an idiot, but I just shrugged my shoulders.  How was I supposed to know?  I'd never been busted before, and had never been to a night court.

Everyone still seemed like cartoon characters to me, and when the judge told me that drinking and driving don't go together, I nodded in agreement and said, out loud, "Here, here!" because, again, I thought it was funny at the time.

She frowned so I assumed she didn't appreciate my levity.  She also told my public defender to control her client, or that I'd be held in contempt.

           I was thinking about my girlfriend, or should I say, e-girlfriend and because it was the middle of the night, I thought to myself, how nice it would be if I were held by her, even it was in contempt.

After the judge looked at my file and saw that I had never been arrested before, I sensed that she was about to let me sleep it off and release me.

"You realize how serious this is, don't you, Mister?" she said finally.

"Yes," I said.

"You could lose your license and go to jail for 30 days, you realize that, don't you?" She said, looking at me as if I were trying to scare me.

I shrugged my shoulders.

"What was that?"

I shrugged my shoulders again."

"Did you want to say something?"

"Not really."

"Then I'm going to let you sleep it off and we'll set a trial date for thirty days from now."

I gave her the okay sign.  I wasn't trying to be rude,

"Control your client, counselor."

"Yes, your honor."

I was bored and wanted to go home.  I appreciated everyone playing their roles, but it was late and I figured I was sober enough to leave.

"So, are we good?" I said, thinking we were wrapping up.

Again, the judge was offended and decided to get all judge-y on me. She slammed down her gavel.  "Quiet!"

I mimed myself putting a lock on my mouth and throwing away the key.

"You seem to be treating this like a joke, young man."

I shook my head, "No" as no one seemed to be as funny as me.

"Is there something you want to say to this court?"

I shook my head.

"Are you sure?"

To this day I don't know why she said that to me, because I did want to say something, but I was sort of picking up on the idea from my lawyer and the judge that I should just sit there and listen to them and not say anything.

"Well, if you're really asking." I said.  My lawyer shook her head.

"Go ahead."

"After this is over, I was wondering if you'd like to go out for a drink."

The judged slammed down her gavel and then pointed it at me.  "30 days!"

I turned to my lawyer, as I was pretty sure she had said the worst that was going to happen to me was spending the rest of the night in jail. My PD  objected and noted that the crime I had committed really was an overnight offense, and that my talking out of turn was me not understanding the seriousness of being in front of a judge.

The judge looked at me, and asked, "Is that right?  Are you not aware of the situation you're in?"

Not knowing what to say, I looked at my PD who nodded, suggesting it was okay for me to answer the judge.

"I'm sorry, your honor, you see, I've had a tough day, today," I said in a serious, apologetic tone.  But then I added, "but I do have to say I've enjoyed our brief time together."

"30 Days, One Night," she said and called for the next case.