Voicemail of the day

"Uh, hi. It's me. Can you reschedule my court date? Sigh. Today is just not my day."

Uh, who are you?

First post of 2009

The end of 2008 was unbelievably busy. A hiring freeze for public defenders has meant that we're understaffed and overworked. Considering the county attorney's office has been hiring more and more prosecutors (including some PDs from my office), I think that is patently unfair.

I managed to sneak away for the holidays to be with my family in Arizona. I could really see myself living there (aside from the uber hot summers). The people were really nice and friendly (and really good-looking). Because I could hit up the Lifetime gym there, I really found myself getting into a comfortable routine - gym in the morning followed by coffee and checking work-emails and doing some trial prep until noon... And all without wearing a winter coat.

Now I'm back in Minnesota, where my eyelashes are freezing on my walk to and from work. I even have to wear glasses when outside to avoid a recent rash of contact-freezing (and yes, I mean freezing on my eyeball). I am leaving for NYC on friday where I'll get to see my sister for a few days before getting on the train for Washington, DC. That's right, I'm one of the crazy buffoons who want to see this historic Inauguration. I've been looking for tickets, but my search has been crazy frustrating. I couldn't get any out of my representatives. I almost had one, but the chick was trying to sell hers to the highest bidder. I have one more possible slim, slim, slim chance, but I doubt that will come through.

Anyone out there want to take pity on me and a friend and give me your extra Inaugural tickets? I'll be your best friend... Or promise never to speak to you again (whichever you prefer).

I got a $15 gift certificate to the Landmark Grill!

Thursday morning started out as a good day. I just returned from a trip to Arizona where I spent a few days walking, swimming, and eating under a 75-degree cloudless sky. I walked to work bundled up to face the 16-degree morning. Listening to a podcast and carrying my home-brewed coffee, I sauntered the 3 blocks to work and got into the elevator. I pressed "14" and listened to Peter Segal tell Chris Paul that he thought he could take him in basketball as the elevator doors closed and the car began to move upward.

1...DING...2...DING...3...DING - nothing out of the ordinary until - ...6...DING...7...

The elevator stopped. Then it started shaking. Then it fell an inch or two down the elevator shaft before it started moving up again. I was concerned, but I thought it was a passing fluke and all would be fine.

...12...DING...13... The elevator stopped again. I waited a few seconds. The elevator shot up to 14, almost to 15, back down to 14 where it stopped. The "14" button was no longer lit. I waited for the doors to open. The car started shaking again. And then it fell a few inches and shot back up again. I screamed. Every time it shook and fell, I felt as if I was hurtling to my death 14-floors down. I pressed the door open button - the elevator car door opened, but the corresponding doors on 14 didn't. As I stared at the closed doors, the car started to shake again. Now I was starting to freak out. I pressed the alarm button, nothing happened. My heart started to race as I looked for the phone. In my panic, my eyes didn't see the tiny nob with a phone symbol on it indicating the door for the phone.

I started kicking the door screaming "Help! I'm stuck in the elevator!" The car shook and then fell again. I screamed and fumbled for my cell phone. I dialed 9-1-1. The operator couldn't hear me because the reception in the elevator was bad. After listening to the woman unresponsively say "Hello? Hello? Is someone there" to my cries for help I hung up. The elevator shook again. Fingers shaking, I dialed the numbers again and this time she could hear me, but by now I was so frazzled I could barely get out my words between tearful gasps. "I'm...sob...stuck...sob..in the elevator...sob..and I think it's going to fall!"

As I was talking I kept thinking about all the 911-calls I've listened to and how incoherant I would sound if they replayed it. The operator was soothing, getting the address of the building so she could send the fire department out to get me. As I was giving her the information I heard a voice outside the elevator, "Is someone in there?" I instantly recognized the motherly voice as one of our administrative staff. I screamed, "Yes! It's Mariam! I'm stuck! It keeps shaking and I think it's going to fall!" She told me that the elevator people knew and were coming to work on it. I told the 911 operator they were working on it - she kindly offered to stay on the line to calm me down and I told her it was ok (I lied) and hung up the phone.

After a few minutes, I eventually heard the voice of a man telling me that they were working on it. He told me not to worry about falling, that the elevator was rigged to catch every few inches and I would not fall. As I waited, I suddenly became excruciatingly hot and took off my jacket. As soon as I did that, the elevator shook and fell again then shot up again. I screamed as my stomach fell into my feet. The guy said "Don't scream, you'll be fine!" I kept thinking, you sit in here when this tiny box of death shakes and falls and tell me if you think you'll be fine!

Shaking and crying, I sat on the floor of the elevator to try and calm down. A few minutes later, the door opened. I saw three people standing there - my motherly co-worker, another secretary in my office, and the strange man. As soon as she saw my tear-stained face, the secretary started crying. Then I started crying again. The strange man took my hand to help me up and out of the elevator car and I collapsed on the shoulder of my motherly co-worker and cried for a few seconds. Once I calmed down, the man introduced himself and re-explained how I wasn't in danger. I was just glad to be out and alive. I thanked him and got some kleenex to wipe my face. I checked my office mailbox then took the *stairs* down to 11 where my office is.

The upshot? Out of guilt, or perhaps fear of litigation, the building manager came to my office and gave me a $15 gift certificate to the Landmark Grill.

How do you say "bummed" in Thai?

For the past 6 months, my mom and I have been planning to go to Bangkok, Thailand together. She has a meeting there and I wanted to tag along. It would be our first mother-daughter solo international travel experience and I was SO excited! Bought the guidebook. Got the shots. Borrowed books to read on the plane. Got advice on things to do.

Then yesterday, things got ugly in Bangkok. Protests at the airport, blasts, flights cancelled both in and out of the country, civil unrest, random violence... Did I mention we're supposed to leave Saturday? Now my mom thinks we should cancel the trip. My mom who has traveled everywhere from China to Iran thinks maybe we should sit this one out. No decisions have been made yet. I'm still holding onto hope.

What do you think we should do?

POLL REMOVED: Fate decided for us - no flights in, no flights out. We stay. Boo.

Dayman!

It has been so busy at the PDs office that I haven't even had the downtime to reflect to compose a blog post in a looong time. After reading comments on my last post, I was feeling really frustrated, but then I remembered what always puts me in a better mood. And so I share it with you:



Sing with me!

Another friendly reminder to the private defense bar

Dear Private Attorney,

I know you think you know more than I do. Hell, maybe you do. I know that you think dispensing legal advice without, oh I don't know, "reading the file" or "knowing about what the evidence is" is a good idea.

In the future, if you're not going to do either of those things, please do not tell my already deluded client that he "should be able to get" a misdemeanor disposition from a felony. Or else, take the damn case and get what he "should be able to get" for him. Oh wait, what? You can't/won't/don't have a valid legal license to do so? Then shut the f&*$ up!

Warmest Regards,
Mariam

I'm going going, back to Sconnie Sconnie

For the first time since graduating in 2005, I'm going back for a weekend in Madison! I'm excited to see the old haunts and root the Badgers on to victory against Illinois!

Peace the spork out.

Domestic Court: the remix

Inspired by Blonde Justice and her mix tape, I had to make one too. Every so often, I'd like to make a mix tape inspired by what I do. And after fter spending the last two days in domestic arraignments, here's what I've come up with:

Any other PD's with inspiration? Give me an idea for a mixtape! Otherwise... Enjoy :)

Will the true American please stand up?

I don't care which party you affiliate with - this is an abomination:



We are a country founded on the marketplace of ideas. What makes this country amazing is that people are allowed to have different opinions. They are to be discussed, vetted, and exhausted so that the American public can be comprehensively informed.

You say it's un-American to be liberal? It's un-American to have a different viewpoint from your own extreme view? For shame Michelle, it is you who is un-American. You define McCarthyism: questioning a person's patriotism, making baseless accusations, and using fear to try and conform people's ideas to your own. Replace the word "Communist" with the word "terrorist" and I don't think I could tell the difference between you and Joseph McCarthy.

I hope you lose your seat in Congress this November. By insinuating that the some of the people whom you are supposed to represent in your district are un-American, you no longer deserve it.

Otho Update

Since the racial slur and violent outburst was used by an employee at Otho toward one of its patrons, I have an update on what has occurred:

1. That evening, my friend called the manager at Otho detailing what occurred and said he would like an official apology.
2. Also that evening, one of my co-workers stayed behind at Otho to discuss the incident.
3. The next evening, that same co-worker went back to Otho to speak to management. They indicated that they were trying to decide how to handle the situation. The offending bartender was on the premises, still working behind the bar.
4. The following week, another friend wrote Otho indicating her disgust at the incident and how she had several bad run-ins with that same bartender. She indicated she would no longer be patroning that establishment.
5. That Tuesday, Otho sent my friend an email saying they were going to speak with the offending bartender that night and would let him know what occurred.

More than a week since Otho claimed it would speak to the offending bartender and two weeks from the incident, no apology has been issued to my friend. At this point, I can only assume it will never come.

As I passed by Otho on my way home from work today I saw none other than the offending bartender, still employed and working behind the bar.

So, today I'm 29...

...And I'm still waiting to be taken out, Logan's Run style.

I am definitely happier one year away from leaving my twenties than I was one year into them. I think your 20's are this crazy time of self-discovery where you finally nail down your personality (if it wasn't already determined by a superlative vote in high school - I got most dramatic and best hair). You learn to take things in stride a lot better, let go the little things that get you down, and surround yourself with the most amazing people you can.

I consider myself very lucky on this birthday and I look forward to 30. (And yes, I realize I'm saying this now and not in 2009 when I'll again be iterating that I'm turing 29 and deleting this post to hide the evidence of my actual age).

Restaurant Experience: Otho

Do not go to Otho.

I'm not talking about the food, the drinks, or the decor. The reason you should not go there is much more serious.

Background: My good friend Imran and I threw a party at our building last Friday night. It was 80's themed with costumes, decorations, and a professional DJ. Many people we work with celebrated with us - public defenders, private attorneys, city attorneys, county attorneys... It was a welcoming environment and everyone had a blast. We even worked out a deal with Otho for a late night happy hour special and 80's music for our guests starting at midnight after the party ended.

Background on Otho: It's located in the Skyscape Condominium complex. Considering both Grant Park Condos and Skyscape are full of young professionals adjacent to this restaurant, you would expect it to be constantly crowded. But it's not. Imran and I always tried to support business there. We had celebrated a birthday there. And Imran and his fiance had their engagement party there. We thought we were doing our local establishment good by bringing them our business.

What happened: At midnight, as we were cleaning up the party room, I received a phone call from one of my guests: "The bartender is saying there aren't any drink specials. He's being really rude about it." I walked over to try and clear up the problem. I walked toward the establishment and many of my other guests were standing outside talking about how rude the bartender was being to them. I walked inside and asked to speak to the manager. When I found her she indicated to me that now they were honoring the special and playing the music. I thought the problem was solved. I was excited because the wild party-goers had calmed down and now everyone was talking in different groups. No one was boisterous. No one was going nuts. And there were only 4 people in the entire bar that were not with our party.

When Imran came, he ordered a few shots for himself and two friends. The aforementioned bartender poured them and then printed up the bill. Imran was planning on spending more money, so he told him to hang on to it and he'd pay it. That was not good enough for the already angry bartender who continued to wag the bill in front of him to get him to pay immediately. Oblivious, Imran then went to grab the other two shot-takers to come to the bar. The bartender followed him with the bill in hand. He approached him and said:

"Hey, [racial slur] take your fucking shots and pay your bill!"

Imran was so shocked by this statement, he said, "What the fuck did you just say?" As words were exchanged, the bartender said, "If we were out on the street, I'd fucking kill you!" and proceeded to come from behind the bar in an aggressive manner. Several people were witnesses to the bartenders aggression. The manager grabbed me and told me that Imran had to be kicked out of the establishment. I saw the confrontation and went between everyone and grabbed Imran and said, "Let's get out of here." Once outside, I found out what happened and came in and told everyone who I brought to Otho that we were leaving and not giving them another cent of our money.

That bartender used a racial slur against my friend and threatened his life. The establishment kicked my friend out. That bartender was back at work at Otho the next night. I would not be surprised if he had a history of such behavior based on how he was acting to the patrons before he served Imran. To this date, no formal apology has been issued to Imran and as far as I know that bartender is still working there. The service industry is no place for racism or violence; and therefore, should have no place for Otho.

Do not go to Otho. If they are willing to keep such a person under their employ, they do not deserve your money or your time. And please, tell everyone you know.

Update: Both my friend and others have been in touch with management several times since this incident. One individual stayed after we all left that evening to speak with the manager and Imran himself called after he got home. As far as I know, no apology has been issued nor has there been any action taken against the bartender.