The longest quarter year of my life, Part V: Suburban Court Date #2

Last time in the End of an Era series: After coming thisclose to being in deep trouble with the Glendale Heights jurisdiction for almost missing my first mandatory court appearance, I planned ahead. The next time I'd have to go out to court, I promised to not make the ordeal so complicated and less of a fiasco...


Part V: Suburban Court Date #2.

My second scheduled court appearance at the Glendale Heights Field House was two weeks after the first (almost failed) one. This time, I made sure to have transportation sorted and was going to make this as painless as possible. The only thing I was worried about was another hefty fine.

Monday night, after working at United Center, I took the Madison bus east to the Ogilvie Metra station and went up northwest to Palatine. My wonderful mother, who was allowing me to borrow her car for the day, scooped me from the train station. We went back to her house and I hung out with the fam for a while before heading back to Chicago around 2 a.m.

The next morning, I went to my 10:00 class. It was so nice to drive the 20 minutes as opposed to the 55-minute CTA commute I'd been taking over the past several weeks.

Since I was out at 11:15, court was at 1 p.m., I had a little extra time to kill. I met up with Shane around noon for a super-quick lunch at Noodles & Co. since I was going to be out in the west suburbs anyhow.

It was a rushed meeting since his break was 30 minutes long, but it was nice to see him during the week since we were both so busy with work and school obligations on weekdays. "Are you nervous?" He asked me as we stood in line waiting to order.

"No, I'm really not," I responded. "The first court appearance, while painful, went smoothly, and what's the worst that could happen? I know I'll be fined anyway, probably $1000 since this is my second citation...but as long as my freedom isn't at stake, I'll lie in the bed I've made."



That is one of the biggest lessons I've learned throughout this ordeal. I could waste time cursing myself for not buying insurance. I could be angry at Jesse White for suspending my vehicle from August 15-December 15. I could hate the bored suburban police. I could cry about having to take public transportation for nine weeks. But what good does any of that do?

I think after all I've been through throughout my entire life, I've found that you just have to keep on living. Roll with the punches and punch life back in the fucking face. Letting dumb outside circumstances debilitate you is pretty much an ineffective way of dealing with problems.

I believe nothing that happens to us is inherently "good" or "bad;" we, as humans, assign such happenstance with the positive or negative label; place the value judgment on it. Something is really only bad because you choose to look at it that way. There are some things that you can't change or control--but you can change the way you perceive them...you control how you react to them.

So instead of crying and being mad for half a year, I had to take responsibility for my actions and their consequences. I had to own up, take care of the issues, and continue living life. Instead of seeing this four-month hassle as something completely horrible, I took it as a lesson learned--experience which would prevent me from making the same mistake twice (which is defined as insanity).



I got to court right on time. I was shocked to see the field house full of probably 200 people. As I waited for my name to be called, I did some more writing in my new pocket-sized moleskine to pass the time.

Finally I went up to see the judge, who was warm and friendly--at least to me. I told him I pleaded guilty to operating a suspended motor vehicle, but I did not believe that my plates should have been suspended at the time and showed him my notice from the Secretary of State. He barely glanced at my paperwork and told me to stand to the side and wait to speak to the D.A. so he could look over things. It would probably be another fine of $300 or so, like last time.

It was the same man as before, but I'm sure he didn't remember me from two weeks prior. I explained the situation, this time showing him the letter of acceptance of my SR-22. He told me, "Okay, I see this situation. You aren't driving the car any longer, are you?" I obviously told him no because I wasn't. "All right, well if your plates were coming up as suspended in the database, it'll be hard to argue that if we take this to trial," he explained.

"So what should I do?" I asked.

"Well, how about this. The standard fine for this is $300. If you just plead guilty, we'll give you court supervision and you can go. And since there was some confusion on your part, I'll reduce the fine to $100. This'll be much easier than waiting around and going to trial---"

"I'll take it!" I told him, gladly. And within minutes, I was out...amazed at how blessed I'd been throughout this whole ordeal.


As I said, roll with the punches; go with the flow. The path of least resistance is usually the best route to take.



Now that the suburban drama was over and dealt with, all I had to do was go to my initial court date in Chicago on December 12, pay the $625, and finally, the drama would be behind me.


Next time: the conclusion.