I went to the Minnesota Supreme Court today to listen to some oral arguments for a case I was involved in. When I was clerking for a judge in Minneapolis, we had a personal injury case involving a guy who got run over by a bus. The guy’s lawyer didn’t want me in the courtroom because he was claiming his client was too disabled to work. The lawyer was concerned the jury would see me, bravely working despite my horrible disability (snicker, snicker) and then look at his client and essentially say to themselves, “What the fuck’s this guy’s problem?” So complaints were filed and depositions were taken and many trees died in the pursuit of justice.
So I get to the Capitol building where arguments are being held in the old courtroom. I’m even wearing a tie! I walk down the hallway, feeling a bit lost because I’ve never been here before. I find the courtroom.
There are three very well-crafted but very formidable marble steps leading into the courtroom.
There is no ramp.
Fuck.
I eventually make it in the courtroom, but with much noise and lack of decorum.
Irony is alive and well, Dear Reader.
Peace,
Mark
