Got Crabs?

In Louisiana, a photog in the courtroom is about as welcome as a case of crabs at the Bunny Ranch.  The boot-shaped state is yet to embrace cameras in court.  Court detail usually means a quick peek inside the hallowed halls of justice for a glance at the perp of the day followed by a seat on the curb waiting for his honor to give Pookie a smoke break.  At least there’s usually another shooter or two to help panhandle for lunch money.

But what if Danno hasn’t booked the perp, and you are the only one who knows he and his lawyer will be making the walk of shame at the back door of a holding cell near you?  Oh, and no one has the slightest clue what the perp might look like.

That, my friends, can make for one ass-numbing day.  And that’s where I found myself last week.  Not once, but twice . . . in the same day at that!

How exactly does one pass all that time waiting for happenstance to happen?

In the old days, I might have grabbed a hunk of concrete on which to squat and cheated my way through a game of Sudoku, a crossword puzzle, and the cryptogram, all while keeping a wary eye on the horizon for Willie the Pimp and his entire entourage.

With all the electronics we carry these days, entertainment is only as far as my fingertips.  Why, there’s a whole interweb out there just waiting to be surfed. There’s news, entertainment, sports, gambling, even a lusty lady or two just waiting to chat — LIVE!

Too bad this is my station phone.

Ya think my bosses were worried about crabs?


About Rick

Writer, photographer, thinker of deep thought . . . too bad I only write about shallow ones.
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