On Monday I had to work half a day, and then spend the afternoon in court with my lawyer, and having my bankruptcy reviewed by a judge. I came straight from work, and found the government building in downtown St. Paul.
Upon my arrival, I found a series of security checkpoints that rivaled those found at the airport, manned by 3 guards. They had the x-ray tunnel, and the archway, and the clown with the wand, etc., etc.. I was immediately told to put my folder of legal papers into the tunnel conveyor belt (because obviously, those are the most dangerous items I could possibly be carrying). I put my keys, pocket change, chained wallet, and cell phone in a basket, and stepped through the archway.
It beeped.
I took off my Carhartt jacket, which had a thick metal zipper on the front. In addition, I remembered that I had my stagecraft tools in a pouch on my belt, which I took off and placed in the basket before stepping through the archway again.
It beeped. A fourth guard arrived.
They instructed me to take off my metal riveted belt. I complied and stepped through the archway a third time.
It beeped. Two more guards arrived.
Wand Clown instructs me to stand like a crucified Jesus as he waves his device across my body. I don't have a wristwatch (nor do I care to) so my arms were fine.
The problems started with my pants. (This is usually the case in most situations, security-related, or not.) More than once, the wand beeped at my crotch, but not at my knees, and then beeping loudly at my feet.
I explained that I had just come from work and that I was wearing steel-toed work boots. Taking them off would have been quite a scene, and a stinky one at that. The crotch beeping was most-likely due to the heavy-duty rivets in my canvas work pants. Wand Clown had a look on his face that said he was contemplating whether or not to have me take off my pants.
Just then, Extra Guards 5 & 6 start griping about my stagecraft tool pouch, which included my Ultra-dangerous Mini-mag flashlight and a Gerber multi-tool. Their main frustration came from the fact that they couldn't even get the tool open, let alone produce the small jackknife blade. Despite my verbal instructions, their collective brain cells could not get the tool to function as anything more than a paperweight. I was reminded of the Far Side Midvale: School for the Gifted comic and had to restrain myself from laughing aloud. It was decided that I could not bring the tool pouch into the courtroom. Fine, whatever.
I was first to arrive in the antechamber/waiting room just outside of the courtroom. It was there I would be meeting my lawyer. Second to arrive was a man, at least in his 70s, with slicked-back hair, a mustache, Coke-bottle glasses, and a raspy voice that could not be mistaken.
"Hi!" he said loudly. "I'm Jack. Jack Prescott. The busiest bankruptcy lawyer in Minnesota! Are you waiting for me?"
"No." I replied, biting my lower lip to conceal my growing grin.
"Okay then, young fella."
Next to arrive was another guy, not too dissimilar in appearance from me, as he was also wearing construction clothes.
"Hi!" Jack says. "I'm Jack. Jack Prescott. The busiest bankruptcy lawyer in Minnesota! Are you here to see me?"
The guy actually is there to see Prescott, who sits him down and then goes into a monologue.
"Now what's going to happen in there is this: The judge is going to call your name, and you're going to go up to the bench and sit down. You're going to hand your file back to me. You need to present two pieces of identification, one with your picture on it, and one with your Social Security Number on it. Then she's going to ask you some questions. Tough questions, like 'What's your name? Address? Social Security number?' and so on. She may ask you some additional questions about your particular situation. Keep your answers short and brief. Yes. No. No. Yes. Do not volunteer any information. The shorter the answer, the better. Do you understand?"
The guy nodded, and Prescott told him to go wait in the courtroom and relax until his name was called.
Next a girl, walked in the door, and I swear it was deja vu. And not the kind with naked chicks. I'm talking about a word-for-word replay of what just transpired only moments prior.
"Hi!" Jack says. "I'm Jack. Jack Prescott. The busiest bankruptcy lawyer in Minnesota! Are you here to see me?"
The girl is indeed there to see him.
"Now what's going to happen in there is this: The judge is going to call your name, and you're going to go up to the bench and sit down. You're going to hand your file back to me. You need to present two pieces of identification, one with your picture on it, and one with your Social Security Number on it. Then she's going to ask you some questions. Tough questions, like 'What's your name? Address? Social Security number?' and so on. She may ask you some additional questions about your particular situation. Keep your answers short and brief. Yes. No. No. Yes..."
Several other people arrive, and Prescott runs through the same routine. By the fourth one, I had his speech memorized, as he gave his clients the drill. At one point, one of them spotted me across the room, and smirked. It was then that I realized that I had been mouthing along with his monologue, and promptly stopped.
The actual bankruptcy hearing took all of 5 minutes, and seemed pretty standard. I was the first one called to the bench (of about 100 people that were in court that day), so I was in and out relatively quickly.
It was the only part of my visit that didn't produce lots of laughs afterwards.
