Justice

Last month I got a speeding ticket. But I don't know that you could even call it that. Because in my book, going 42 in a 40 when trying to get into the left lane to avoid an accident on the right shoulder is not speeding. But apparently it is to Memphis' Finest.

So as I was saying, I got a ticket. I had two choices: #1, pay up, or #2, go to court. If you go to court, the ticket is supposedly wiped from your record. I chose option #2.

My court appointment was last Friday at 1:30 p.m. That morning, I was sitting in a room with all 25 presidents of our fraternities and sororities for the final presentations of our Greek Presidents' Class. We were having technical difficulties, so I decided to fill the time by making some small talk. Many of the students are Memphis natives, so I decided to break the ice by asking if any of them had ever been to court for a ticket.

The little crowd erupted! Apparently, the courthouse is downtown, parking is for the birds, the line is ridiculous, and you wait forever only to have the ticket dismissed. AKA: my entire afternoon was going to be wasted on ridiculous beuracracy. As they grumbled about their past misfortunes at the hands of the Memphis legal system, I asked them for directions to this particular division of city court.

One student in the row behind me (Who just so happens to be one of my favorites because he dresses very nicely, complete with suspenders, almost every day. And I'm not talking dorky suspenders, folks, I'm talking slick suspenders. The kid is fly.) offered to call his dad to double-check the location of the courtroom. Before I could turn down his offer, he was on the phone:

"Yeah, dad...where is Division 2 city court?...."

"Its a speeding ticket..."

"Its just my Greek advisor here at school..."

"What's the ticket number?...."

{He reaches out for the speeding ticket in my hand}

"Number yada yada yada.....Leslie Poe....Sam Cooper Boulevard....yada yada yada"

He hangs up.

"My dad said not to worry about it...he's gonna go take care of it."

What!?!

I was shocked. "Garrison, who the heck is your dad???"

"Oh, he's just an attorney downtown. He said he'd just go across the street and get it taken care of."

Are you kidding me???

Then I started to worry. What if this is a joke? I don't go to court and then next thing I know my face is on a milk carton for Memphis' Most Wanted?

But 20 minutes later, Garrison's phone chirped with a text message from his dad.

"Yep. He said you're all set! Its off your record and you don't need to go to court!"

"Garrison, I owe you a big batch of cookies."

Justice is served.