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captainsblogWelcome to the courthouse of the 21st century. Same as the courthouse of the 19th century, for all practical purposes.
I'm in downtown Buffalo, where I've been scheduled in two different courts, five hours apart, for pretrial conferences that will likely not last a half hour between them. The first is already done and already lived up to its half of that half-hour bargain.
But hey! I can work while I wait, right?
Chortle. Guffaw. Outright sarcastic peal of laughter.
----
Stop One was in Buffalo City Court- a 10-story monolith, a windowless, soulless structure from the 70s that annually gets awards at public architectural conferences for "Worst thing to do, still, since the last time we voted."
Its original concrete-barrier design (it's described on Wikipedia as "brutalist architecture") has been made worse by post-9/11 security measures, which have cut off all but two of its entrances and spilled them both into a security zone that makes O'Hare Airport seem friendly and kind. Fortunately, I re-found my magic card that whisks me past that; unfortunately, what it whisked me onto was the Seventh Floor. Home of small claims, evictions, and small commercial case pretrials. Dozens of people milling about, with nobody in sight to direct. Also, on the entire floor, not a single electrical outlet to plug a laptop into. So for the rough 45 minutes I waited for my 15 minutes of not fame, I performed delicate calculations for a client's case using pen, paper and the calculator function on my phone.
----
In between, I moved into the state court law library for the first half of the layover. This collection of books and other legal resources was a long-neglected stepchild of the local courts, for years stuck up on a musty mezzanine in the oldest building in the entire system here, before the state forced the county to do renovations and they moved the whole shebang into the longago UB Law School building downtown.
Until 1973, when they moved the school out to the suburban UB campus, 77 West Eagle was a stately building with a big reading room on the third floor; it, too, sat neglected for decades, until the 90s, when the at-gunpoint reno's by county officials resulted in its return to its original library function. Sadly, at that point, "original" must have meant wooden card catalogs and plenty of wastebaskets for law students' paper-written notes. There is not a single ground-floor workspace with an outlet other than one or two that are close to a wall (and thus inviting of you tripwiring someone with your power cord if they walk past you); the only one I've ever been able to find anywhere else in the building, with an outlet not across a walking space, is in the furthest corner of the top library floor, surrounded by Federal Appendix volumes (hell, I've practiced for close to 30 years, worked in a law library once, and I don't know what a Federal Appendix is), and as far from the building wifi as you can get. So it blinks on and off like a beer sign and is essentially useless.
But at least I had power, so I copied over my scribbles into actual memory, wrote my transmittals, and worked on other stuff until hungry. There still remained two hours before the federal court gig, but that's in a brand-new building, with supposedly state-of-the-art ameneties for judges, lawyers and the public!
Uh huh.
----
It is beautiful, you gotta admit. That is, other than the anomaly of it bearing a cornerstone with a 2011 date and the positively frightening words "George W. Bush, President" engraved on it (actually reflecting the usual BS delays in getting anything actually built around here). As for state of the art, though, I think the "state" we're talking about is "Michaelangelo." Or maybe even "cave painting."
Once again, not a single carrel, table or other desk-like object appeared to be anywhere near a corner with an outlet. I sought out bibliotechnical help, and was pointed to this table- and to a crevice in the carpet which, no shit, she had to pry up with a scissor to access the six electrical outlets buried in the floor.
Plugged and ready to play, the wifi indicator popped up- networks are available! Sure enough, one readily appeared for "NYWD-Atty Lounge." A secure one, requiring a password. You know me and them, right? So I asked a librarian, who, somehow in all the months since this place opened, had never been asked before. But she got it for me- it's about as hackable as a Buffalo Common Council meeting (which is full of hacks), and you wonder why they even bother.
And, like its state counterpart, it's weak in here and thus, again, the wifi blinks on and off like a beer sign.
Do you even wonder why I mention alcohol so much?
So my lesson for the day is: when they say "Networks are available," I think they only mean one Network. This one:
I'm in downtown Buffalo, where I've been scheduled in two different courts, five hours apart, for pretrial conferences that will likely not last a half hour between them. The first is already done and already lived up to its half of that half-hour bargain.
But hey! I can work while I wait, right?
Chortle. Guffaw. Outright sarcastic peal of laughter.
----
Stop One was in Buffalo City Court- a 10-story monolith, a windowless, soulless structure from the 70s that annually gets awards at public architectural conferences for "Worst thing to do, still, since the last time we voted."
Its original concrete-barrier design (it's described on Wikipedia as "brutalist architecture") has been made worse by post-9/11 security measures, which have cut off all but two of its entrances and spilled them both into a security zone that makes O'Hare Airport seem friendly and kind. Fortunately, I re-found my magic card that whisks me past that; unfortunately, what it whisked me onto was the Seventh Floor. Home of small claims, evictions, and small commercial case pretrials. Dozens of people milling about, with nobody in sight to direct. Also, on the entire floor, not a single electrical outlet to plug a laptop into. So for the rough 45 minutes I waited for my 15 minutes of not fame, I performed delicate calculations for a client's case using pen, paper and the calculator function on my phone.
----
In between, I moved into the state court law library for the first half of the layover. This collection of books and other legal resources was a long-neglected stepchild of the local courts, for years stuck up on a musty mezzanine in the oldest building in the entire system here, before the state forced the county to do renovations and they moved the whole shebang into the longago UB Law School building downtown.
Until 1973, when they moved the school out to the suburban UB campus, 77 West Eagle was a stately building with a big reading room on the third floor; it, too, sat neglected for decades, until the 90s, when the at-gunpoint reno's by county officials resulted in its return to its original library function. Sadly, at that point, "original" must have meant wooden card catalogs and plenty of wastebaskets for law students' paper-written notes. There is not a single ground-floor workspace with an outlet other than one or two that are close to a wall (and thus inviting of you tripwiring someone with your power cord if they walk past you); the only one I've ever been able to find anywhere else in the building, with an outlet not across a walking space, is in the furthest corner of the top library floor, surrounded by Federal Appendix volumes (hell, I've practiced for close to 30 years, worked in a law library once, and I don't know what a Federal Appendix is), and as far from the building wifi as you can get. So it blinks on and off like a beer sign and is essentially useless.
But at least I had power, so I copied over my scribbles into actual memory, wrote my transmittals, and worked on other stuff until hungry. There still remained two hours before the federal court gig, but that's in a brand-new building, with supposedly state-of-the-art ameneties for judges, lawyers and the public!
Uh huh.
----
It is beautiful, you gotta admit. That is, other than the anomaly of it bearing a cornerstone with a 2011 date and the positively frightening words "George W. Bush, President" engraved on it (actually reflecting the usual BS delays in getting anything actually built around here). As for state of the art, though, I think the "state" we're talking about is "Michaelangelo." Or maybe even "cave painting."
Once again, not a single carrel, table or other desk-like object appeared to be anywhere near a corner with an outlet. I sought out bibliotechnical help, and was pointed to this table- and to a crevice in the carpet which, no shit, she had to pry up with a scissor to access the six electrical outlets buried in the floor.
Plugged and ready to play, the wifi indicator popped up- networks are available! Sure enough, one readily appeared for "NYWD-Atty Lounge." A secure one, requiring a password. You know me and them, right? So I asked a librarian, who, somehow in all the months since this place opened, had never been asked before. But she got it for me- it's about as hackable as a Buffalo Common Council meeting (which is full of hacks), and you wonder why they even bother.
And, like its state counterpart, it's weak in here and thus, again, the wifi blinks on and off like a beer sign.
Do you even wonder why I mention alcohol so much?
So my lesson for the day is: when they say "Networks are available," I think they only mean one Network. This one:
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Date: 2012-12-10 07:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-12-10 08:58 pm (UTC)Speaking of enjoying, I hope you had an awesome birthday! Sorry I forgot it....
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Date: 2012-12-10 09:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-12-10 10:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-12-10 10:26 pm (UTC)