Really, really good lawyers for my civil jury trial here in Omaha. A horrific crush injury is involved. Diversity jurisdiction.
Lots of money at stake. I love good lawyers. My job becomes easy.
I have known one of the lawyer for over 30 years. He is 71 and still trying cases ’cause he loves it. He once got 10 of us, who were taking depositions in a big case, into a disco in Denver in the late 1970s by telling the proprietor that he was the body-guard for Paul Volcker of the Federal Reserve System. One of the other lawyers was really tall and he played the part of Volcker admirably. We got comped all night. Afterwards, ten of us piled into one cab, I think. Somehow we got back to the hotel. I don’t remember much more of the evening.
The damn digital audio failed in the middle of the Plaintiff’s opening statement yesterday. It was fixed but the IT guy had no clue why it failed. To make me even happier, the digital audio failed for a bench conference as well. I feel like Ted Mack overseeing the Amateur Hour. Trust me, some IT ass is in for a good chewing.
I had dinner in the Old Market. If you come to Omaha, you must visit the Old Market. Old buildings that used to be the warehouse district for Omaha’s booming trade with the frontier have been preserved. It is heaven for frivolous young people, many with garish art on their bodies. Truth to tell, I like it too.
My face stills looks bad. The skin began to peel off today. I wore my STFU hat when I went to dinner and pulled it way down. I sat on a sidewalk cafe to eat. That way few people were required to confront a leper slurping white wine and eating a huge BLT. Bacon, bacon, bacon, bacon.
I’m done with my course of anti-viral medication. Still taking Lyrica for the pain. That makes me walk like a drunk. I don’t know why but I literally cannot walk a straight line. My cognitive powers, limited though they have always been, remain the same. I just wobble and weave when I walk.
The College World Series is going on. The government is going to pay through the nose for my hotel room. A lot of Omaha police officers patrol the floors of my hotel. The Vanderbilt baseball team–that made it to the finals for the second time in so many years–is staying here. Almost got into a fist fight last night when several of their older fans laughed and pointed at my STFU hat. But one of them was a particularly nice guy, a lawyer from Tennessee. We exchanged business cards. No fight, just warm greetings. Go Vandy!