Objection.

My TV Production teacher in High School told me one day, "Corrence, in life, you'll have one job that needs to be made into a sitcom." He then went on to tell me about his experience at a restaurant in California where he, a staunch conservative republican, worked with dramatic, gay men who would describe their sexual experiences to him. In detail.

I work as an intern/assistant at my aunt's office near Boston. She's a criminal defense lawyer and practices in a high-crime area in Boston. I expressed my interest in working in the law, and she asked if I wanted to work with her one summer. One thing lead to another... and I've been going back there every school vacation (and sometimes during the school year).

The cast of characters is... different, to say the least.

There's one attorney who constantly yells at me, tells me to kill myself, and often insults my mother for no reason. Then there's the "One-Date Wonder," who's a really nice guy when you look past his awkward social tendencies. My favorite, though, is the quirky private investigator who just adopted a black baby from Utah because she "can't find a man" and "pushing a baby out would hurt too much."

One of my first days at this job, I was walking through the lock-up in the District Court with aunt Nancy, on the way to talk to a client who was debating whether or not to take a plea deal offered by the DA. If there's anything I've learned, it's that if the District Attorney finds your fingerprints on bullets found in a dead man... take the deal.

Anyway, we were approaching the cell where our client was situated, when I heard a mumbling coming from a cell I was passing. I started to listen closer as I passed the prisoners inside. One remarked to the other, "Mmm mmm, look at this chubby little nigga in his suit."
Startled, I moved closer to Nancy in an effort to avoid the gazes of the sex-starved prisoners. Apparently they were so desperate they were going to resort to prison raping an intern. Good times.

I love the District Court in the inner-city. It's so different from the environment in which I grew up. Instead of vast parking lots and automatic doors, there's street parking and a homeless man who holds open the doors to the Court for cigarettes!

The whole situation reminds me of every sitcom on TV. Only this one is about lawyers and it isn't a drama starring William Shatner or Dylan McDermott. We have a hangout, a restaurant down the street from the court. During the day, there's a waiter who works there. He's young, he's gay, he's cute, and he's an aspiring actor. Nancy is convinced that he wants me, due to a particularly awkward incident involving the 2 minute purchase of a $50 gift certificate to the restaurant which ended up as a 30-minute conversation about the Boston Gay Men's Chorus and how ghetto our respective hometowns are. Fuck my life.

One summer day, the temperatures in the city started to drop due to a strong sea breeze. 70 degrees became 55, and I decided it was too cold to go to lunch in a short-sleeve polo shirt and shorts. So I wore a suit coat to lunch and was berated the whole drive to the restaurant by Nancy and Sue, one of the other lawyers. We were sat by the hostess who left us to our own devices (her first mistake), and eventually Dana, the aforementioned P.I., joined us at the table. She carried with her a Stop and Shop bag, but I couldn't see what was inside of it.

"Corey, I made you a birthday present!" she announced, knowing my birthday was a week away.

Let me just explain for a second that the "professionals" I work with have warped senses of humor. A running joke started one day that I ride the "short bus" to the office every day. But the lawyers worried that I would hurt my head while licking the windows, so they joked that they would buy me a pink helmet (to protect my head) with a bell on it (so I don't get lost in a crowd).

Dana pulled a pink helmet out of her bag. It had a pink bicycle horn super glued to the side (because a bell was too much trouble to weld to the helmet), and 3 squeaky toys attached to the top (so if I ever got bored, I'd have someone to talk to).

Nancy and Sue almost fell out of their chairs because they were laughing so hard. The waitress returned, looked horrified, and walked right out of the dining room. Usually, I don't need help making a scene. But it seems that when I'm assisted by others, the situation is made that much worse. Proudly, I wore the helmet until the meal was served. That's when I took a bite out of my burger and the meat juice spilled out on my suit coat. The adults all started laughing at me again, when the waitress came over with napkins.

Between cackles, Nancy reassured the waitress that next time, they would leave me at home.

"Please do," the waitress responded.

I'm such a mess, that I almost got banned from a 2 star restaurant. New low? Definitely.