I want to share my little adventure to the Knoxville courthouse today. It makes an ordinary day seem like a little piece of heaven.
Joyce is my boss. She and I are friends, and have been for about four years. She's a terrific lady and brilliant when it comes to our line of work. But she is also scatterbrained beyond belief.
Joyce waited until 3:00 to say that she HAD to go to the courthouse, and she had to do it today. I called their main number and was told that they would be closing at 4:30. And so the race was on . . .
Out to her car, we pulled out of the parking lot when she asked, "Where's my Vanilla folder?" (I swear).
"I have no idea!"
"But I had it in my hand as we walked out of the door!"
"Did you lay it on top of the car?"
"Well, shit."
So we backed out of the road and back into the parking lot. She ran into the building and came back out waving the "vanilla" folder and laughing. "I found it!"
This was already going great.
Back on the road, I braced myself for what I call Joycie Driving. (I thought my husband scared me. Joyce takes it to a whole 'nuther level) She was swerving in and out of traffic when the phone rang. She grabbed it and only looked up just in time to not slam into the back of a car.
"Where in the hell did YOU come from? No, not you" (to the person on the phone)
So I said, "He was already in front of us."
"Well, shit."
At this point, I was beginning to be thankful that I do not get car sick. Off the road, and back on. Searching through her phone for a number and SLAMMING on the brakes to avoid hitting another previously invisible car in front of us.
So Joyce says, "You know, I am actually a very good driver". I stifled a laugh.
I saw the exit that will take us to Cumberland Ave, and I showed her where to go. Zip, zip, zip, SLAM on the brakes. I asked her if she knew where we were going, and she said that she thought she did. It was at this point that I decided to call my husband for a bit of assistance. All was well and good until we came to the incline at the end of Cumberland Ave at a light. I told her to stay in the right-hand left turn lane. Apparently, that was a bit confusing so she decided to split it down the middle, much to the dismay of the cars that were actually IN the left turn lane. I made a pouty face to the guy beside me to the right when he laughed.
So then we were on Henley street looking for our turn. I soon realized that Joyce doesn't acknowledge the words ONE WAY when they are on a street sign, and so I had to become a bit forceful with her when she tried to take us into oncoming traffic. "IT'S THE NEXT STREET! NOT THIS ONE!"
"Well, shit" (She said that a lot)
It was beginning to feel a bit like Mr. Toad's Wild Ride.
So we were finally on the street we were looking for, whatever it was, but neither of us could see any indication of anything resembling a court house. I called my husband again, and did what he and his friend Eric suggested. I told her to turn left and get us around in the other direction. "Joyce, that would be TWO lefts".
"Huh?"
"Just turn left at the next . . .NOT HERE THIS IS A ONE WAY STREET!"
"Well, shit"
"Ok, turn left at this street coming up."
"Well, now we're going the wrong way!"
"Joycie, now you have to make another left and we will be going the right way--um, the CORRECT way."
"Oh. Well, why didn't you say that?"
**sigh**
So we stopped in the middle of an intersection ON A GREEN LIGHT and she put my window down so I could ask a man running through a crosswalk where the freaking court house is. He pointed to a building right in front of us.
Christmas.
And so then the search for parking began. I lost count at about schfourteen-teen trips around the block. I told her that we had to find a parking building. Never mind that it was already after 4:00 and they close at 4:30. But no, she was determined to park on the street.
"Joyce, this is parking for buses."
"Well, shit".
"Joyce, we can't stop here either--this is a tow zone"
"Well, shit"
"Joyce, seriously--we have to find a parking building. There is one right over there. "
So she ran a red light, and of course the oncoming traffic was headed toward my side of the car. I covered my eyes and miraculously we made it through. After almost pulling into the exit of the parking garage, and consequently terrifying the soccer mom in the minivan who was pulling out, she finally made it into the right side. Actually, the look on "Soccer Mom's face was kinda priceless. So she pulled right past the ticket machine and sat there waiting.
"Um. You need a ticket"
"I know that. That guy needs to get off his ass and turn around to this side and give me one"
"Joyce, he takes cash from people leaving. You drove past the ticket machine."
"Well, shit"
Meanwhile, the security guard standing there is looking at us like we are from Mars.
Around and around and around this parking building, finally we found a spot. We got out of the car and hauled ass. Joyce asked where we were going, and I said to the elevator.
"The elevator? We came in on the ground floor"
"*sigh* Joyce, just follow me please. And write this down--"P-1"--We are going to need that when we come out."
And so I choose the "L" button in the elevator for lobby, thinking that was probably the main floor. We went up in the elevator and came out in the middle of a bank. That was unexpected. But around the corner, we saw the door leading to the street. On the street, we had completely lost sight of the freaking courthouse.
Since I used her phone to call the courthouse before, she looked it up and called it again. "Can you tell me where the courthouse is located? We're across the street from a building that says Post Office and Court House and . . .what? . . .oh . . .*laughing* . . .well, I guess you wouldn't be able to. Sorry about that, San."
She had actually called the Help-Desk guy at our corporate office in Chicago. I am positive that he thinks we are high.
So finally we saw the building. Joyce had to take off her shoes so we could run. It was 4:15 at this point. I grabbed her hand and ran across the street between a row of parked police cars, not in a crosswalk, and up into the court house. We had to stop and wait while they ran our bags through the X-ray thingie and we went through the metal detector. I asked her which office we were going to, and she said, "Hell--I don't know". I grabbed her "vanilla" folder and checked on the form for the name of the office. I located it on the directory, grabbed her hand and ran to the elevator. "We're going to office number 450", I said, and I punched "4" on the elevator button.
"How did you know to punch the 4?"
"It's office number 450"
"Huh?"
I ignored her at this point. I grabbed her hand again and ran into the office, but of course the actual office was buried in a maze within the main office. When we finally reached the right one, the nice lady at the counter told us that we were at the wrong office.
So Joyce said, "What? Isn't this City Taxes?" And the lady replied, "Yes, but you do not need city--you need county." Joyce asked, "Well, which office is the one I need?" and the lady pointed out the window--to a different building--across the street--the other courthouse. (Yes, there are two in Knoxville.) "If you hurry, you can just make it"
"Well, shit"
Back down the hall, down the elevator to the floor called "W", toward the breezeway, oops--not that way, it's a dead end. Ok, there's the breezeway. At this point we were literally running. We got to the other court house and it was 4:27. And what did we find at the door? An cop with an attitude problem. Clearly, he knew that the courthouse closed at 4:30 and clearly we were running. So what did he do? He decided that we needed to have our bags searched. He pulled mine off the conveyor belt and looks at me with a glare.
"Is there anything in here that I should know about?"
I said, "Yeah--I might be carrying concealed tampons."
He wasn't amused. He pulled out a contraption and said, "So what is this?" The female cop beside him rolled her eyes."
"It's an eyelash curler" (What? Do you not carry an eyelash curler with you? Huh.)
He threw it back into the bag, and started going through Joyce's purse. I grabbed mine and ran on ahead to the door, which was thankfully right beside the metal detectors. The women inside were nice, and stayed after closing time to help us out. When we came out, I looked across and saw the room where my husband and I were married six years ago. I told Joyce about how we did the same thing by going to the wrong courthouse first and having to run to meet the preacher in time.
I figured that the worst of it was over, and so I relaxed. I remembered which bank the parking garage was in, and I also remembered what floor the car was on--P-1. We avoided a drunk guy driving around in the parking garage, made it outside and eventually onto Henley Street. I told her that this time, we needed to stay in the left-hand left turn lane. She was fine with that until we made the turn onto Cumberland Ave. She decided to switch into the right lane in the middle of the intersection. Nevermind that that lane was already occupied by a guy who thankfully had excellent defensive driving skills and the patience of a saint.
We somehow made it down Cumberland to the on-ramp for Alcoa Highway, but we did encounter a stop light first. SLAM on the brakes.
"You really get nervous when someone else is driving, don't you?"
"um . . .*forced laugh*"
Finally, we made it back to the office in one piece. She mentioned taking me to Orlando with her for our next meeting, and said that she could drive us.
Joyce is my boss. She and I are friends, and have been for about four years. She's a terrific lady and brilliant when it comes to our line of work. But she is also scatterbrained beyond belief.
Joyce waited until 3:00 to say that she HAD to go to the courthouse, and she had to do it today. I called their main number and was told that they would be closing at 4:30. And so the race was on . . .
Out to her car, we pulled out of the parking lot when she asked, "Where's my Vanilla folder?" (I swear).
"I have no idea!"
"But I had it in my hand as we walked out of the door!"
"Did you lay it on top of the car?"
"Well, shit."
So we backed out of the road and back into the parking lot. She ran into the building and came back out waving the "vanilla" folder and laughing. "I found it!"
This was already going great.
Back on the road, I braced myself for what I call Joycie Driving. (I thought my husband scared me. Joyce takes it to a whole 'nuther level) She was swerving in and out of traffic when the phone rang. She grabbed it and only looked up just in time to not slam into the back of a car.
"Where in the hell did YOU come from? No, not you" (to the person on the phone)
So I said, "He was already in front of us."
"Well, shit."
At this point, I was beginning to be thankful that I do not get car sick. Off the road, and back on. Searching through her phone for a number and SLAMMING on the brakes to avoid hitting another previously invisible car in front of us.
So Joyce says, "You know, I am actually a very good driver". I stifled a laugh.
I saw the exit that will take us to Cumberland Ave, and I showed her where to go. Zip, zip, zip, SLAM on the brakes. I asked her if she knew where we were going, and she said that she thought she did. It was at this point that I decided to call my husband for a bit of assistance. All was well and good until we came to the incline at the end of Cumberland Ave at a light. I told her to stay in the right-hand left turn lane. Apparently, that was a bit confusing so she decided to split it down the middle, much to the dismay of the cars that were actually IN the left turn lane. I made a pouty face to the guy beside me to the right when he laughed.
So then we were on Henley street looking for our turn. I soon realized that Joyce doesn't acknowledge the words ONE WAY when they are on a street sign, and so I had to become a bit forceful with her when she tried to take us into oncoming traffic. "IT'S THE NEXT STREET! NOT THIS ONE!"
"Well, shit" (She said that a lot)
It was beginning to feel a bit like Mr. Toad's Wild Ride.
So we were finally on the street we were looking for, whatever it was, but neither of us could see any indication of anything resembling a court house. I called my husband again, and did what he and his friend Eric suggested. I told her to turn left and get us around in the other direction. "Joyce, that would be TWO lefts".
"Huh?"
"Just turn left at the next . . .NOT HERE THIS IS A ONE WAY STREET!"
"Well, shit"
"Ok, turn left at this street coming up."
"Well, now we're going the wrong way!"
"Joycie, now you have to make another left and we will be going the right way--um, the CORRECT way."
"Oh. Well, why didn't you say that?"
**sigh**
So we stopped in the middle of an intersection ON A GREEN LIGHT and she put my window down so I could ask a man running through a crosswalk where the freaking court house is. He pointed to a building right in front of us.
Christmas.
And so then the search for parking began. I lost count at about schfourteen-teen trips around the block. I told her that we had to find a parking building. Never mind that it was already after 4:00 and they close at 4:30. But no, she was determined to park on the street.
"Joyce, this is parking for buses."
"Well, shit".
"Joyce, we can't stop here either--this is a tow zone"
"Well, shit"
"Joyce, seriously--we have to find a parking building. There is one right over there. "
So she ran a red light, and of course the oncoming traffic was headed toward my side of the car. I covered my eyes and miraculously we made it through. After almost pulling into the exit of the parking garage, and consequently terrifying the soccer mom in the minivan who was pulling out, she finally made it into the right side. Actually, the look on "Soccer Mom's face was kinda priceless. So she pulled right past the ticket machine and sat there waiting.
"Um. You need a ticket"
"I know that. That guy needs to get off his ass and turn around to this side and give me one"
"Joyce, he takes cash from people leaving. You drove past the ticket machine."
"Well, shit"
Meanwhile, the security guard standing there is looking at us like we are from Mars.
Around and around and around this parking building, finally we found a spot. We got out of the car and hauled ass. Joyce asked where we were going, and I said to the elevator.
"The elevator? We came in on the ground floor"
"*sigh* Joyce, just follow me please. And write this down--"P-1"--We are going to need that when we come out."
And so I choose the "L" button in the elevator for lobby, thinking that was probably the main floor. We went up in the elevator and came out in the middle of a bank. That was unexpected. But around the corner, we saw the door leading to the street. On the street, we had completely lost sight of the freaking courthouse.
Since I used her phone to call the courthouse before, she looked it up and called it again. "Can you tell me where the courthouse is located? We're across the street from a building that says Post Office and Court House and . . .what? . . .oh . . .*laughing* . . .well, I guess you wouldn't be able to. Sorry about that, San."
She had actually called the Help-Desk guy at our corporate office in Chicago. I am positive that he thinks we are high.
So finally we saw the building. Joyce had to take off her shoes so we could run. It was 4:15 at this point. I grabbed her hand and ran across the street between a row of parked police cars, not in a crosswalk, and up into the court house. We had to stop and wait while they ran our bags through the X-ray thingie and we went through the metal detector. I asked her which office we were going to, and she said, "Hell--I don't know". I grabbed her "vanilla" folder and checked on the form for the name of the office. I located it on the directory, grabbed her hand and ran to the elevator. "We're going to office number 450", I said, and I punched "4" on the elevator button.
"How did you know to punch the 4?"
"It's office number 450"
"Huh?"
I ignored her at this point. I grabbed her hand again and ran into the office, but of course the actual office was buried in a maze within the main office. When we finally reached the right one, the nice lady at the counter told us that we were at the wrong office.
So Joyce said, "What? Isn't this City Taxes?" And the lady replied, "Yes, but you do not need city--you need county." Joyce asked, "Well, which office is the one I need?" and the lady pointed out the window--to a different building--across the street--the other courthouse. (Yes, there are two in Knoxville.) "If you hurry, you can just make it"
"Well, shit"
Back down the hall, down the elevator to the floor called "W", toward the breezeway, oops--not that way, it's a dead end. Ok, there's the breezeway. At this point we were literally running. We got to the other court house and it was 4:27. And what did we find at the door? An cop with an attitude problem. Clearly, he knew that the courthouse closed at 4:30 and clearly we were running. So what did he do? He decided that we needed to have our bags searched. He pulled mine off the conveyor belt and looks at me with a glare.
"Is there anything in here that I should know about?"
I said, "Yeah--I might be carrying concealed tampons."
He wasn't amused. He pulled out a contraption and said, "So what is this?" The female cop beside him rolled her eyes."
"It's an eyelash curler" (What? Do you not carry an eyelash curler with you? Huh.)
He threw it back into the bag, and started going through Joyce's purse. I grabbed mine and ran on ahead to the door, which was thankfully right beside the metal detectors. The women inside were nice, and stayed after closing time to help us out. When we came out, I looked across and saw the room where my husband and I were married six years ago. I told Joyce about how we did the same thing by going to the wrong courthouse first and having to run to meet the preacher in time.
I figured that the worst of it was over, and so I relaxed. I remembered which bank the parking garage was in, and I also remembered what floor the car was on--P-1. We avoided a drunk guy driving around in the parking garage, made it outside and eventually onto Henley Street. I told her that this time, we needed to stay in the left-hand left turn lane. She was fine with that until we made the turn onto Cumberland Ave. She decided to switch into the right lane in the middle of the intersection. Nevermind that that lane was already occupied by a guy who thankfully had excellent defensive driving skills and the patience of a saint.
We somehow made it down Cumberland to the on-ramp for Alcoa Highway, but we did encounter a stop light first. SLAM on the brakes.
"You really get nervous when someone else is driving, don't you?"
"um . . .*forced laugh*"
Finally, we made it back to the office in one piece. She mentioned taking me to Orlando with her for our next meeting, and said that she could drive us.
I hope you are going to incorporate it into one of your writings. If you don't want it, may I borrow it?
