A day in the life of

Monday was take-your-girlfriend-to-work day. I set my alarm for 5:30am and got ready to embark on the adventures of a lawyer's daily hustle. 

Leo picked me up at 7am to begin the hour-long drive to the first court hearing. The road trip was an incentive for this shadow game since I'm on vacation and haven't gone anywhere remotely interesting or unfamiliar. The sun shone brightly rising above the mountains, warming my face as it blinded my eyes. Traffic was light and our conversation cut the lengthy ride in half. 

The parking lot in this particular Southern California courthouse was full by 8am. Two lines of people stretched out from the entrances to the parking but Leo wasn't worried. His badge allowed him access  to the front and I followed suit. We took a couple of turns inside the building before finding the right courtroom. Once there, I had to sit on the benches to the left for "regular" folks because the identical benches to the right were reserved for attorneys. 

Leo crossed the Bar, the short wall that keeps us citizens apart from the judge, and began taking care of business. There was nothing else for me to do but to commence people-watching. There was a lawyer sitting in front of the Bar. He was young like Leo. Then the District Attorney walked in and it surprised me that she too was our age. What didn't surprise me was that, just like Leo and me, both the attorney and the DA appeared to be as sleep deprived as we were. I laughed internally at the irony: professionals with at least a decade of education under our belts yet we can't get our ish together and go to bed at a decent time. I blame the demands of the world we currently live in; there just aren't enough hours in a day to work and play. The attorney had managed to dress well that morning despite fighting his itty bitty eyes to stay awake. He made Leo look alert behind his glasses. I noticed that the attorney was wearing a wedding band and I took the liberty of picturing him partying with his wife and their friends in a dark club under a disco ball all weekend.

In contrast to the attorney's appearance, the DA seemed to have rushed to work after snoozing the alarm clock three times like my sister claims to do every morning. She wore a black knee-length skirt, a black and white striped shirt, and a black blazer that didn't match the skirt. She had clearly brushed the left and right sides of her lifeless, long brown hair but had forgotten to make contact with the back of her head where the tangled tresses shined with grease or water or sweat. I checked out her shoes and gasped at how inappropriate the shiny heels were for the courtroom. She had most likely thrown on the first pair she saw on the floor that morning, which happened to be the same ones she had stumbled home in the day before at three o clock in the morning. But the most revolting aspect of the DA was her attitude. When the half-awake attorney asked her a question, she turned the other cheek and answered him rudely with something like, "Yes, I'm the DA. No, I can't help you," as she flipped through papers. I looked so much better in my un-DA salary $22.99 dress from Ross. The knee-length charcoal number with black tabs on the sides to accentuate the waist fit me like a glove thanks to my fake Spanx. I know everything I have said might come off as mean-spirited and that's why bad things happen to me but at least I didn't mention the DA's ginormous double chin (versus my regular-sized one). Leo completed his work soon after the DA snapped at the attorney and off we went to courthouse number two.

The people in the second courthouse seemed to be more stupid than the ones in the previous one. Maybe I was just getting crankier due to my lack of sleep. Either way, I do know that the judge in the second courtroom looked like Anderson Cooper. He was very practical, taking cases every 2.5 seconds and congratulating delinquents or not for making progress with their community service hours as the men and women squirmed behind the podium. I couldn't help but think how embarrassed those law-offending citizens were as their personal business became public. And that's when a question popped into my head: Would I rather be standing there discussing my criminal case in front of other offenders or getting a PAP? I decided that I'd rather get a PAP because I have a clean record. 

Now let me describe the kind of power trips floating around in the courtrooms. One would think that the people in black robes would be intimidating but the judges know how to keep their authority at bay. The bailiffs, however, say and do anything throughout the hearing so you won't forget that they have a gun. Trying too hard is such a put off, if you ask me. The one in charge of the last courtroom, identified as Mexican-American by me and Hispanic by Leo, told some fat kid with too many piercings on his lip not to lean on the wall and to "sit up straight." Then he told me, "Excuse me, ma'am," as he made his way past me towards a skinny kid sitting on the same bench. The felon had his feet propped up against the bench in front of us and like a teacher talking to a student, the bailiff asked him if he put up his feet like that on the furniture in his house. My automatic response: Yes. But the kid lied and said no, feeding the bailiff's power trip to say, "This is my house and you respect my house." Because being Mexican-American isn't macho enough..

There was finally a change of pace when Leo ushered me to the previous courtroom to retrieve more files from his partner. I was excited to have an opportunity to act the part I had dressed for. I hooked my black and white Nine West purse in my arm, hugged the black leather folder I received at my Master's ceremony, and walked past the two sets of doors toward the elevator, pretending I knew what I was doing.  I saw the attorney Leo had sent me to find in the hallway speaking with a couple of clients and I asked for the files. As he handed me a stack that reached my chin, the clients smiled at me like I was someone to be respected in the field of law. That's when I knew that I deserved an Oscar for my performance. I walked away like Reese Witherspoon in Legally Blond and handed Leo the documents after addressing him by his last name.

The court appearances ended at noon which translated to lunch time. After dropping off documents in his office, Leo and I headed to a Mexican restaurant that neither one of us had ever been to. We had heard of Tío's Tacos in Riverside and it's eccentric decor. They recycle anything and everything to make art which ranges from human bodies to a chapel. The restaurant has its own parking lot and three outdoor patios. The food was excellent. Leo didn't want to put down his sopes and was saddened when he physically couldn't finish them. I will also note that they serve chips and salsa with every order. We plan on going back when we are not constrained to one hour. Understandably, that was my favorite part of the the day in the life of Leo. I'd make sure a visit to Tío's Tacos is guaranteed, though, before you commit yourself to a lawyer for the day. 

Freaky art

Rated-R art. There was a smaller version of this with Barbie's face on it that had a water fountain coming out of her vagina.

Aguas frescas galore. My cell phone camera couldn't capture them all in one shot.

I admired the creativity of this condiment holder. 

The chapel. Note the bottles in the walls.