Monday, November 10, 2014

Three martini lunch

Back on the drunk theme from a few weeks ago, I once attended an afternoon hearing with defense counsel reeking of a three-martini [at least] lunch.  Her aroma followed her to the clerk's desk where she checked in, and then to where she sat in the gallery.  I was three rows in front of her, and a little to the side, and I could still smell her.  I noticed no one sat in any of the seats in her immediate vicinity.

And because the commissioner in this courtroom was incompetent, to put it euphemistically, I did not stipulate, and we had to wait for assignment to a judge.

And wait, and wait, and wait.

Eventually I felt the bailiff shaking me gently by the shoulder.

"Wake up, counsel."


I went out into the hallway to walk around, get some fresher, unscented air, and try to stay awake.

It took almost TWO HOURS for assignment to a judge.

Fortunately I was able to remain awake the rest of the afternoon.  And opposing counsel still reeked.

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