201 Poplar

Edit: For some reason Blogger is messing with my spacing today...my apologies for the massive block of text!

This tiny little picture is just a fraction of the facility that houses the Shelby County jail, court system, and other legal offices. I got to spend my morning there. Now before you go spreading rumors, it was just because I needed a background check printout for an upcoming community service trip that I am leading. No warrants, misdemeanors, or other criminal offenses here!

I have heard about 201 Poplar since moving to Memphis (remember how I almost had to go because of that speeding ticket until that student's dad bailed me out?) but this was my first visit. When you approach the 200 block of Poplar, the first thing you notice is the hoards of people loitering along the block. I'm sure you can imagine the clientel, so I will not describe them, but let's just say this: every person who gets arrested and called into court in the city of Memphis (or who is newly released out of the jail) hangs out here. Enough said.

So I parked, asked the parking attendant which portion of the complex was 202 Poplar, where records are handled. He told me it was all the way down the block at the jail area. Awesome. So here I am, in my little plum belted dress, grey cardigan, and yellow flats, with wallet, keys, and checkbook in hand (you are not allowed to take anything else in with you). And I have to walk an entire city block lined with people who I would never want to meet in a dark alley. Though I was scared for a moment, I quickly realized that I was probably in the safest place possible considering I was outside the jail/courthouse and there were cops all over the place. I put on my best, "I may be cute but I am tough and you do not want to mess with this" face and walked.

I waited in line to go through security, and as soon as I got through the guard noticed my checkbook and told me they only took cash. I had brought $20 with me, but had to spend $10 on parking, so I did not have enough to get my background check. The nearest ATM was one block the other direction, so once again I had to walk through the mass of humanity, get money out of a machine in front of people (!!!) and walk all the way back. I may have said a few prayers on that walk.

Once I went back through security I was sent to a little side office. I submitted my request at the window and was told to wait for processing. As I sat and observed, I quickly realized that the other purpose for this office was processing for arrests and fingerprinting. Let's just say I was the only little white girl there for a background check! I sat down next to a gentleman with a full grill and pants down around his hips. There I sat, taking it all in, wondering why these people were here.

As each man approached the window, the clerk would ask a series of questions, one of which was "Have you ever been arrested before?" One man responded, "Of course I have!" and the dude next to me gave a little chuckle. Relieved (since I too thought it was funny), I gave a little chuckle as well.

He looked at me. I looked at him. We smiled.

"I know you didn't shoot anybody," he said. "What did you get arrested for?"

"Well, I'm afraid it isn't anything that dramatic. I'm just here for a background check."

"Ahh...yep...I knew you didn't shoot anybody"

"I try to avoid that if I can help it," I responded.

[I am now really wishing that I had looked him straight in the eye and said, "Actually, I just shot my husband," given a little smile and looked away with an eerie glaze to my face, only to pull a "Just kidding!" a few seconds later. How funny would that have been? Don't worry...as you'll see, he would have enjoyed the joke.]

He smiled, giving me a good look at his ornate grill.

"So....what are you here for?" I dared to ask.

He told me. Got pulled over. Cops say he didn't have a driver's license. Now he has to go to court. I'm assuming there are some other details involved, or previous infractions. We chatted a bit. I started to really enjoy our conversation, so now that I was a bit more comfortable I said what was really on my mind:

"I like your teeth."

"I like your shoes," he responded. Ha. Grill man likes my little yellow flats with ruffles on the toe.

Made my day.

"So...do those just fit right over your teeth?"

"Yep!"

"And you can take them out whenever you want?" (Taking advantage of my opportunity to get all my burning grill-related questions answered).

"Sure!"

"And was it hard to learn how to talk right with them?"

"Naw. Now my brother...." And he proceeded to tell me about his brother's grill, how he paid way too much for it and it was hard to talk with it in, how he took it out and lost it. Captivating stuff.

"Yeah," he finished, "I'm thinking about getting a gold one here in a few weeks."

"Really?" I said. "I think that would look really good. You should definitely do that!"

"You think?" he said.

"Of course! But something tells me that I couldn't really pull off that look."

"Naw," he laughed, "I don't think you should try."

His name was called. He was taken back. He threw me a wave and a smile as he walked through the doors.

And that one conversation made my week. And I am totally going to wear these shoes more often.