Happy St. Patrick’s Day!

No, this post is not about drinking green beer or eating Irish food.  It is, however, about the St. Patrick’s Day Parade and my run-in with it six years ago (geesh…six years ago…where does the time go?).  I had practically forgotten about this experience until this afternoon when I was again denied access to the downtown area due to street closings along the parade route.  Now I can look back and chuckle, but at the time it was not so funny.

It was 2005, and the weather was similar to today’s weather.  Sunny, a bit windy, but warm.  One of the first warm days of the year.  The firm that I was working for at the time had recently moved to an area north of downtown.  I had only been working in the city for about a year and a half.  Not nearly long enough to know which holidays warrant a parade.

I had scheduled a deposition for 1:00 at a downtown court reporter’s office.  This wasn’t any deposition.  This was my first “real” deposition.  I wasn’t just asking someone to tell me their version of what happened.  No, I had to try to get this witness to say things that would actually help me prove my case and survive a summary judgment motion.  This was real lawyering!  And, in my opinion, something I was not yet ready for!

One of the partners in the firm went with me, but that didn’t make me feel any better because he really didn’t know anything about the case.  He also informed me that he would have to leave at a certain time and I knew we wouldn’t be done by then.  That just added to my panic.  As a result of his other committment, we ended up driving down separately.  We left around 12:30, plenty of time to get downtown and get settled before I had to start.

I’m driving along and come up to a road barrier.  “What the hell?”, I think.  What is this?  It took me awhile to realize it was St. Patrick’s Day and there was a parade.  I turned in a direction I thought would get me through to a street near the building I was going to.  I drove a few blocks.  Great.  Another barrier.  How far is this parade route?  I wound back and forth, up and down the streets of downtown, trying to find an open path, all the while the minutes clicking faster and faster towards 1:00.  I was starting to panic.  Maybe I could just cancel?  Where was the partner?  Wasn’t he wondering where I was?

I finally made it near the block I was looking for, all the while cursing the parade-goers.  I parked in the first open parking space I found.  Surely the two-hour time limit on the meter wouldn’t actually be enforced.  I grabbed my briefcase walked briskly towards the office building, trying not to break into a full-blown sprint.  I got into the elevator, walked off onto the floor I needed and looked at the directory.  Umm, where was the court reporter’s office?  There was no court reporter listed.

I opened my briefcase and pulled out my deposition notice.  Maybe I’d gotten the suite number wrong.  No, that was correct.  I read over it again.  Oh. My. God.  I was in the wrong building!  How could this be happening?!  Why today?  Why on the day of my first real deposition?  I think it was about this time that the partner called me, asking where I was.  I blamed the parade, and then sheepishly told him I was at the wrong building and would be there as soon as possible.

Of course the buildings were not near each other.  Ok, in the grand scheme of things, they are near each other, but those three blocks felt like three miles that day.  This time, I did run.  I made it to the office, sweaty and out of breath.  I apologized profusely to the witness, opposing counsel, the court reporter, expressing my embarrassment.  Opposing counsel told me never to be embarrassed.

After all that, it was actually only about 1:15.  Isn’t it funny how a stressful situation impacts how you perceive the passage of time?  I took a couple of deep breaths and started in on my questions.  Forget the fifteen minute prep period.  The partner left early, as expected, and we finished sometime in the early evening.  I packed up my briefcase and slowly walked back to my car.  Remember, I’d parked close to the building I originally thought I was going to.  I neared my car, trying to enjoy the weather.  Wait…what is that?  Are you freaking kidding me?  What do I find on my windshield but a bright pink envelope holding my $20 parking ticket for the expired meter.  I shook my head and sighed.

Ahh, St. Patrick’s Day Parade.  The case, well, it settled, like the majority of them do.  A few years later I had another case with that opposing counsel and we were on the same side.  We had a good laugh about that deposition.  This year when I saw the barriers, I just turned around and went home for lunch.  We are finally at the close of the work day, and it’s time to celebrate St. Patrick’s Day.  Green beer, here I come!