My record was looking good until the city of Redmond and new-fangled red-light camera technology threatened my credibility and dreams of never-ending driving lectures laced with sanctimony.

On an average rainy Thursday in October, I ferried my spawn on multiple errands that culminated with a trip to Target Greatland in Redmond. I approached the intersection without hesitation or pause to complete a perfectly legal right-hand turn at the suggestion of the illuminated green arrow above me.

We all noticed an unusual smatter of flashing lights and I distinctly recall saying; “that better not be for me!” and all of the children shared my affront.

To my eye and my stellar driving record, a violation was not only improbable, but impossible. Until I received a $124 ticket in the mail, complete with pictures of my car and a link to video at www.violationinfo.com. As if!

I watched the video until my eyes bled, increasingly concerned I had misremembered the circumstances. It wasn’t until Sweetie-Boy used his special eyes to point out the dim and tiny green arrow that fades to black AFTER I have already entered the intersection. The fight in me resurfaced, and I scribbled and mailed in a request for a contested hearing.

Like other Red Light Districts I have visited, the courtroom was poorly lit, drably decorated and its occupants immediately cast their curious eyes towards me when I accidentally threw open the doors. The smell of guilt and defiance was in the air. I made it just in time to hear the judge slaughter my name during roll call.

His Honor was quite pleased to announce that it was “reverse alphabetical order day.” With a last name that puts me smack dab in the middle of the alphabet, I failed to cheer and then worried that he had noticed my non-reaction. I believe he decided to punish me immediately by rewarding the guilty.

Jaded-looking lawyers in purple shirts and shiny ties stood up to request mitigation and fee reductions for their repeat offender clients, unrepentant red-light criminals copped to their violations in exchange for mitigation of their fines, followed by questionable tales of mistaken identity. Finally it was time for us boring alphabet dwellers to make our best case for innocence before the judge.

An older couple took their places at the defense table. The husband described the circumstances and explained that he has driven a car for over 40 years and had never had a violation. The attorney for the city asked the man to confirm if his testimony about the absence of flashing lights. Then the judge invited the couple to squint over his shoulder at the video screen on his desk, where he pointed out the flashing light shown in the video. Ouch.

The next guy tried to use legalese and technicalities to wiggle out; no dice. The guy right before me had slightly better luck because the judge pulled out the special sheet of white copy paper he uses to as a diviner of truth, a decider, the white line between innocence and a hefty fine. He glanced cynically at the defendant who widened his eyes and struck an innocent pose. Finally the judge said “you can say something, but you should know I am about to rule in your favor. Being the last defendant sitting was starting to look like a good luck charm for me.

“Mrs. Nunn?”

I jumped up and walked towards the hot seat while explaining the correct pronunciation of my name. By the time I got there, the bailiff was suppressing a giggle. I tried to sit quietly as the judge pulled up the video of my alleged infraction. He asked if mine was the white van. What? I said mine was the innocent station wagon in front of the van. He squinted and frowned and cocked his head this way and that. Then he pulled out the dreaded white paper. After what felt like three life times of watching His Honor make minor adjustments to the paper as held it against his video screen, he asked the attorney for his opinion; “it’s close.”

As I opened my mouth to offer a little encouragement towards a ruling of innocence, the judge turned to me with a smile and said “I am about to rule in your favor, I could wait if you would like to say something.” Even I know when to shut up … for a second anyways.

I took a breath and waited for what seemed like an appropriate amount of time to make my innocence official. Then I started talking. I told the judge it would be impossible to reach any other conclusion because my expert witnesses had reviewed the video and were prepared to testify in my favor, but I couldn’t justify taking them out of school to appear in court. Then I asked if he could do me a teeny little favor that would help me sleep at night.

Now the bailiff was in full on giggle. I explained that during my in his courtroom I was distracted and had become obsessed with the asymmetrical placement of the flags against the wall behind him. I suggested both the courtroom ambiance and his image would be greatly enhanced if he could just move it to the left about 12 inches.

“Your left or my left?”

“Mine” I said.” No, wait, yours.”

He stood up, gathered his robe and bent down to grab the base of the flagpole, “tell me when.”

“Perfect! Actually, no. Maybe 6 more inches, now two more. Yes!”

And then we all silently admired the new vista.

After all, who doesn’t love a happy ending? Especially in the Red Light District … Court.

Wanna say Hiya to Heija? Follow her on Twitter (@Heija) Friend her on Facebook or relax, sit back, and silently judge her life in the flickering glow of your computer screen at her blog The Worst Mother in the World (www.Heija.com).

Fuchsia Sale:

9 a.m. to 3 p.m. It’s spring and that means a chance to buy plants for your yard. The Eastside Fuchsia Society will hold one of its biggest sales at the Bellevue Botanical Gardens, 12001 Main St. www.nwfuchsiasociety.com

Friday, 5-11

Miniature Art Exhibition – Artists Reception:

6 to 8 p.m. Internationally known artist, Donna Leavitt, will jury entries from around the United States and around the world. Park Lane Gallery, 130 Park Lane, Kirkland. www.explorekirkland.com

Saturday, 5-12

Washington Native Plant Sale:

10 a.m. to 4 p.m. The Washington Native Plant Society calls this a huge plant sale. It’s at the Bellevue Botanical Garden, 12001 Main St. www.wnps.org

Sunday, 5-13

Kirkland Half Marathon & 5K:

7 a.m. Starting and finishing at Juanita Beach Park, the Kirkland Half Marathon offers a scenic tour through the five boroughs of Kirkland, inclusive of views along Lake Washington. Held on Mother’s Day each May, the event offers a special opportunity for the mothers of our community. Over 65 percent of race participants are female and the event offers gender specific technical fabric shirts for the half marathon race registrants. Juanita Beach Park, 9703 NE Juanita Drive Kirkland. ww.explorekirkland.com

Run Like a Woman:

8:30 to 10:30 a.m. For women who don’t want the competition of the Kirkland event above, they can celebrate Mother’s Day with a women only 5k fun run and a kids’ 1-mile run around Warren G. Magnuson Park in Seattle. The benefiting charity is Outdoors For All which works to enrich the quality of life for children and adults with disabilities through outdoor recreation. Warren G. Magnuson Park, 7400 Sand Point Way NE. www.runlikeamotherrace.com

The Ravine Experience:

12:30 to 1 p.m. Here’s a different way to see nature. This new nature trail at the Bellevue Botanical Gardens includes a 150-foot suspension bridge over a ravine. The time above is for the grand opening ceremony, but you can come any time. Be prepared for the weather and wear comfortable walking shoes. A Mother’s Day social will follow at one with refreshments and music. www.bellevuebotanical.org

Saturday, 5-19 to Sunday, 5-20

Rhododendron Sale and Show:

10 a.m. to 5 p.m. Beautiful Northwest rhododendrons will be available with proceeds benefiting the Cascade Chapter of the American Rhododendron Society. It’s at the Bellevue Botanical Gardens, 12001 Main St. www.arscascade.org

Dear reader,

Every kid probably grows up wanting to be superhero. Whether it’s trying to be Superman or Supergirl, we all want to be better at something than anyone else.

Of course, we finally realize that this can’t come true. Or can it?

Our cover story this month features Eastsider Staten Medsker. No, he didn’t grow up to be a superhero, but perhaps the next best thing. He created the way one of them got around.

Meet the man who built the Batmobile.

Medsker was just a teenager when he was hired by Los Angeles-based George Barris to work on the original Batmobile. What Medsker knew, and Barris quickly learned, was that the teen had a natural affinity for cars. “In those days, it was all hand-tooled,” Medsker explained. “I created a mold, then laid the fiberglass and built the car by hand.”

It’s just one of the stories about talented individuals or unique places we have for you this month.

We’ll take you to Tokyo Steakhouse, where they not only bring the food to your table, but they cook it there, too.

We’ll also introduce you to Tom Papa, an A-list comedian you may have seen on Jay Leno’s and David Letterman’s late-night talk shows. And, speaking of Leno, he’ll be coming to the Eastside this month. Check out our Nightlife page.

We also have a new feature, The Writers, profiles of Eastside authors and the roads they’ve taken before they found success. First up is Ted Kosmatka and his new novel, “The Games.” No, not “The Hunger Games,” but it’s an equally freighting look at the future – and very well done.

And, since it’s spring, we’ll give you a look at this year’s trends and then spend some time at the first-ever Metropolitan Fashion Week with some top designers.

We hope you enjoy it.

– Craig Groshart

A French multi-millionaire tracked down Staten Medsker and shipped over two cars. The original was a 1950’s race car called the Cicitalia. This is one of two replicas called an Allied. COURTESY PHOTO

By Sarah Gerdes

Off Newport Way, a short distance from Cougar Mountain Zoo, is a nondescript dirt road with a metal gate ajar. Hidden from the main road is the home, itself surrounded by cars of all types, makes and models and in various stages of disrepair.

It is not the residence one would imagine for clients such as the King of Saudi Arabia or a French industrialist. But car enthusiasts around the world know the name of its owner, Staten Medsker.

Medsker rose to fame as a teenager when he was hired by Los Angeles-based George Barris to work on the original Batmobile.

“It was just after he’d created the Munster coffin car, and it was an exciting place to work,” Medsker said.

Medsker had never been to trade school and hadn’t entered his father’s body shop until he became an adult, but had a natural affinity for cars.

At first, Medsker “fixed all the problems created by the other hacks in the shop.” In time, he was given full responsibility for the production of the cars.

“In those days, it was all hand-tooled,” Medsker explained. “I created a mold, then laid the fiberglass and built the car by hand.”

His reputation as a perfectionist soon became the thing of legend. He was quick to throw an object at someone if the paint wasn’t perfect or receive a colorful yell when the product didn’t pass his inspection. It wasn’t uncommon for Elvis to park his car outside the shop and watch over Medsker’s shoulder as he worked on a one-of-a-kind auto.

It wasn’t long before Barris’ main rival recruited Medsker away to Modesto, where he built the Strip Star, which has toured cars around the world and was recently featured in the Rod and Kulture of the fall of 2011.

A naturally humble man, Medsker never sought the limelight or credit for the cars he brought to life, even in his twenties.

“Other people designed those early cars,” he pointed out. “I just built them.” It wasn’t until he started his own shop that Medsker found the freedom to start creating his own objects of beauty.

Fame and Tragedy

As Medsker’s fame spread among car enthusiasts around the world, he found himself battling more than tight deadlines and famous, demanding clients.

His first marriage crumbled from his raucous lifestyle, and Medsker left the family and his three children behind. He fathered several children he never met before marrying a second time. But Medsker hadn’t put his rowdy past behind him, and the vices of his earlier life kept the family in a constant state of tension.

He also suffered from chronic pain, the result of several fusions going up his back, three disks that are missing and bone grinding on bone.

Medsker acknowledges he was an angry, bitter man, constantly battling his own physical limitations.

“Every day was a physical hell, and my family suffered from it.”

Then tragedy struck. On Christmas Day, a fire was started by his eight-year-old child who was playing with the lights on the Christmas tree. Two of the five children died in the hallway and a third was burned on more than 85 percent of his body.

“The other children saved him,” recalled Medsker, his eyes watering and voice choking at the memory, now decades old. Three months later, his wife gave birth and the child died of Sudden Infant Death Syndrome.

It was more than either parent could handle. After his wife attempted suicide, Medsker left the family, relocating to Seattle’s Eastside.

A New Beginning

Medsker’s life started to change when a woman nearly chased him down on the street.

“I had never seen the car before and I just had to know what it was,” recalled Cherie Medsker with a laugh. It didn’t bother Cherie that he had two women in the car, nor that he wanted to ask her out. “I said yes, with the caveat he’d tell me about the car.”

It wasn’t long until they married and Medsker finally put his earlier ways behind him. The couple had three children, two boys and a girl, named Cassie.

“The shop was very busy and we had a healthy family,” recounted Cherie.

Medsker was still in pain and an unbending perfectionist, but his fame had given him clients from around the world. The King of Saudi Arabia sought Medsker out for a custom job that changed an off-the-line Corvette into a Ferrari Testarrosa.

“At the time, it was impossible for the King to get his original Testarrosa serviced,” Medsker said, explaining the country had a Chevrolet dealership but not one for Ferrari’s. “He saw mine and commissioned one for himself.”

Medsker paid cash for a new Corvette, took it apart and hand-tooled a new body in Germany, staying at a palace owned by the King. He completed the car in six months. Fourteen more orders soon followed.

Medsker’s talent and love for bringing his one-of-a-kind cars to market indulged his creative side, but didn’t produce the money Medsker needed to keep his family going.

“Between the engine upgrades, the materials, and the two months it took to make, I only made about ten grand on each one.” He found himself taking on insurance repairs to fill in the gaps.

“It’s not as exciting as hand-molding a custom fender on a Jaguar, but we take pride in the work.”

From Destruction to Service

As the family struggled to make it and Medsker dealt with his internal demons, he paid a visit to Lind Stapley, the bishop of his local LDS congregation. The two had known each other for a number of years, and Stapley had worked with the Medsker family through some dark times.

“I looked him straight in the eye and told him he needed to go serve in the temple,” Stapley said. According to Medsker, it was a turning point for the whole family.

“I was still bitter and in pain, but life it became more bearable.” Cassie agrees.

“Our entire family changed,” she recalled with a fond smile. “It became more peaceful around the house than it ever had been growing up.”

Medsker’s once long hair is gone, replaced with neatly trimmed silver hair. And his face is permanently tan with a tinge of red from the fumes from the shop.

Of the 12 children, three inherited their father’s passion and affinity for cars. Cassie has worked side by side by with her father since she was a teenager. Her mother remembers Cassie’s first experience in the shop.

“When Cassie was three, she stood the exact height of a slant-nose Porsche 911…”

“Which made her the right height to buff the hood,” Medsker said.

Like her father, Cassie has a knack for detail, and had no problem with her father’s temper, his long silences or demand for perfection.

“I’m a perfectionist, too,” Cassie said.

At 71, Medsker has no intention of slowing down or retiring. “The day I stop doing what I love is going to be the day I die,” he vowed.

For her part, Cassie is hoping that he’ll teach her a few of the last secrets of the trade before he hangs up his tool belt.

“I’ve been trying to get my dad to build one last custom car from aluminum,” she said. “Nothing would please me more than to have almost all his skills before he’s over.” If it’s up to her father, she may get her car after all.

Chef Mike Sierra adds some final touches to his grilled vegetables on his iron griddle at Tokyo Steakhouse in downtown Bellevue.

BY CELESTE GRACEY

It took Tokyo Steakhouse owner Bryan Joo seven years to break into the Bellevue market, but he did it with the patience he learned as a Korean immigrant working on a produce farm to support his family.

He now owns Bellevue’s only teppanyaki restaurant, where guests sit around iron griddles to watch chefs prepare their meals.

At one table, Chef Mike Sierra juggles a meat fork, before spinning an egg on a spatula. He builds a volcano from an onion, and its flames shoot up into the vent hood, painting his face in orange light.

His hands are always tapping, and his lips always chanting through jokes and rhythms that keep his guests engaged.

His work is both about the show and the food.

While the goal is to keep customers drawn in, for Sierra, who has been a teppanyaki chef for five years, it’s all about the food. He has to use high-quality, fresh ingredients, otherwise customers would notice. Seasoned primarily with soy and sake, the food is as simple as teriyaki.

Choose a meat, owner Joo likes shrimp and medium-rare steak ($17 for lunch, $28 for dinner), and chefs conjure up fried rice, grilled zucchini and bean sprouts. Dinners also come with a prawn appetizer and salad.

Although the fare is simple, Tokyo is far from bland. It serves Asian-styled steak sauce, they call A-1, alongside sauce for the shrimp, which they comically coined A-2.

While Tokyo’s teppanyaki grills add the most to the Bellevue restaurant scene, it also touts its sushi menu, 118 varieties.

Its grand bar, which stretches most of one wall in the 9,000 square foot space, is made entirely of Plexiglas filled with LED colored lights. LEDs light everything from the edges of the teppanyaki tables to bubbling water features scattered throughout the space.

Depending on Joo’s mood or the season, the colors change. This modern look is completed by neon-colored bar stools that surround Plexiglas tables, which are also filled with the lights.

Joo decided to make the add a Bellevue location after customers from his Federal Way restaurant continued to ask him to come to the Eastside.

He first attempted to find a spot at Lincoln Tower in 2005, but he was up against too many large chain restaurants, he said. “The market was hot.”

He waited until last year, when he struck a deal with Wallace Properties at one of the Elements towers. Tokyo is the second restaurant to open in the towers. Lunchbox Laboratory moved in next door in February.

Joo’s patience through finding the new location came from his parents, who taught him good things come to those who wait.

When he immigrated with his family at age 13, they asked him to take a job at a produce farm to help pay the bills. Until his early 20s, all of his paychecks went to his parents.

It didn’t all disappear into bills though. His parents saved enough that when he wanted his first car, they were able to outright pay for it. For him, it was the reward of his patience.

After high school he took a job as a dishwasher at a teppanyaki restaurant and worked his way up to chef. He cooked for 16 years, before opening Tokyo in Federal Way.

Now and then he still takes over the griddle for fun. “It’s in my blood.”

Tom Papa will bring his clean-cut look and comedy to the Parlor Live Comedy Club from May 17-19.

Papa, who was born and raised in Passaic, New Jersey kid, has become a multi-faceted performer. He’s a veteran stand-up comedian who night owls will recall his numerous appearances on “Tonight Show with Jay Leno,” “Late Night with Conan O’Brien” and “Late Show with David Letterman.”

He’s also had two stand-up specials on Comedy Central. His most recent, “Tom Papa Live in New York City”

As a veteran stand-up comedian, Papa has recorded two stand-up specials on Comedy Central and Rob Zombie directed his next special, “Tom Papa Live in New York City,” was available for download in January.

He’s also made fans for his reoccurring role opposite Julia Louis-Dreyfus on the CBS series, “The New Adventures of Old Christine” and his own show “Come to Papa.”

He also was chosen specifically by Jerry Seinfeld to serve as host of NBC’s “The Marriage Ref.” Speaking of Seinfeld, Papa has for years been the comedian’s opening act, testimony to the type of performance Papa brings to the state. Seinfeld is one of the few comedians to work “clean,” without resorting to off-color language.

If all of that wasn’t enough, Papa is like many comedians who have gotten roles in movies. He starred opposite Matt Damon in “The Informant.” That also was him starring opposite Paul Giamatti in the animated feature, “The Haunted World of El Super Beasto,” as the voice of El Super Beasto. In addition, he had a voiceover role in the DreamWorks animated feature “Bee Movie.” He also received a screen credit for his writing in the film “Analyze That” that starred Robert DeNiro.

Like Seinfeld, and also Bill Cosby, Papa finds his humor from observing his own life as a family man.

Like almost everyone these days, Papa has a Twitter page – another source for people looking for a funny take on life. Consider some of these recent observational gems:

“We should be more frightened of cemeteries in our towns than we are.:

“Planes turn me into a sissy. Misty eyed watching ‘we bought a zoo’.”

“If Hula Hoop is now a sport, my six-year-old better stop screwing around.”

“I’m making a new pet out of dryer lint.”

“To feel like a kid again I bought baseball cards and a new cap with money I stole from my mom’s purse.”

Parlor Live Comedy Club is located at at Lincoln Tower, 700 Bellevue Way NE in Downtown Bellevue.

Eastsider Ted Kosmatka collected a desk drawer full of rejection notices before he sold a story for $50. His first novel deals with a not too distant future where a Cold War-like genetic contest produces specialized killing machines

SCENE: How did you become interested in science fiction writing?

KOSMATKA: I was three years old, and I remember seeing Star Wars at the drive-in with my parents. I didn’t understand any of it, but I knew I wanted more.

SCENE: Was it a struggle to get published?

KOSMATKA: I had a whole desk drawer full of rejections before I ever sold my first story. I kept all the rejections because I read once that Stephen King had kept all his rejections on a spike on the wall, and I think I had this idea that one day when I finally sold my work, I’d be able to point to all my rejections as a learning curve, or a triumph over adversity, or something.

SCENE: What was your first break as a writer?

KOSMATKA: My first sale was for $50 to an online publication that went silent not long after buying my story. After that, I had some success with writing a play, and then I finally sold my first pro story to Asimov’s Magazine. After the sale to Asimov’s, I started selling short stories on a regular basis to various genre magazines.

SCENE: You’ve won a number of writing awards. Did you feel that you had made it as a writer?

KOSMATKA: No, not at all. Award attention is nice when it comes along, but I’m just happy that my work is being published. I wrote for a lot of years where my stuff just ended up in the trunk, so just having my stuff out there where people can actually read it is very gratifying. That’s really the only thing I could ever ask for.

SCENE: What was the driving force to write the novel, The Games?

KOSMATKA: The Games was a way for me to think deeply about exploring the limits of genetic engineering, virtual reality, and what it means to be a conscious, self-aware being. I also wanted to explore the question of whether the end really justifies the means when it comes to certain moral questions related to scientific advancement.

SCENE: You work at Valve Software in Bellevue as a a full-time writer. Did the story lines for the software titles that you worked on shape your thinking for the novel?

KOSMATKA: No, I actually wrote The Games before I ever started at Valve. It does seem like the kind of story that might make a fun game for genetics geeks to play though.

SCENE: The book deals with scientists creating “gladiators” from the genes of non-human life forms. Any idea if science is close to creating the gladiators in your book?

KOSMATKA: I don’t think they’re close right now, but I think it’s the kind of thing that might be possible in the future. Genetic engineering is getting more and more sophisticated all the time, so I wouldn’t want to rule anything out. Of course, just because something is possible doesn’t mean it’s the right thing to do—but it often means that somebody, somewhere will try it.

SCENE: How hard was it to explain technical/scientific terms/techniques in the book yet keep the non-scientific reader engaged?

KOSMATKA: That was a huge, central concern I had when writing the book. I’m infinitely fascinated by genetics and all its associated minutia, so I can go on and on about it. I can think about it, and write about it, for hours without ever tiring of it; but I realize that I’m in the minority in this regard, and I could very easily bore the pants off of readers. I usually have a very low tolerance for boredom in fiction, but genetics is kind of my blind spot. When it comes to how much science to keep in the book, I rely a lot on my editors and first readers. The last thing you want is for readers eyes to glaze over.

SCENE: Has life changed for you since the publication of the book?

KOSMATKA: I’m pretty happy with life right now, and I don’t think I’d really want anything to change. I still go to work everyday like I always have, and I write fiction in the evenings and on weekends. I spend time hanging out with friends and family. I play with my kids and do my best to be a good father. I’m still kind of new to the Pacific Northwest, so I’m having a lot of fun exploring the area. Washington is a gorgeous state.

SCENE: Do you have another book in the works? If so, what can the reader look forward to?

KOSMATKA: I do. The book is called “Prophet of Bones,” and it should come out some time in 2013. It’s an alternate history thriller set in a world where carbon dating has proven that the Earth is 5,800 years old. Although the Earth is young, the fossil record is identical to ours, and the novel follows what happens after archaeologists dig up the bones of Homo floresiensis.

By Sarah Butler

From the must-have color palettes to artisanal prints, everything is perfectly refreshing for Spring 2012. You too can be a style muse this season with top trends for spring from The Bellevue Collection.

Here are the looks that debuted April 21 at the Spring 2012 Exclusive Runway Show.

1. African Artisan: The ultimate escape into tribal stripes, animal prints, and natural textures with a local artisan focus on beads, weaves, and more.

2. Sand to Sea: An ode to underwater world! From seaweed, seashells, and fish scales to ocean waves and glittering sunsets, it’s time to live in pearlized finishes that shimmer like a mermaid’s tail.

3. Candy Coated: Indulge in a sugary sweet color palette for spring that’s inspired by your favorite sweets, from lemon sorbet to mint ice cream.

4. Floral Focus: A head-to-toe floral explosion of hyper-bright blossoms. From graphic to oversized to abstracted, it’s a fresh new take on a classic spring print.

5. Graphic Metallic: Graphic color blocking meets glamour and glitz for a very architectural look.

6. Ladylike Chic: Femininity takes form in lace and pleats for a fragile but strong appeal.

7. Fit Fashion: Performance fabrics bring the thrill of sports to fashion with hi-tech prints, drawstring details, and streamlined track pants.

Want more insider scoop? The Bellevue Collection has created a “Behind the Scenes” video of its Spring 2012 Look Book photo shoot. See what it takes to make the fashion guide of the season, from hair and makeup to stylists and photographers – it’s all there in one irresistible video.

Visit The Bellevue Collection’s Spring Website at, bellevuecollection.com/SpringFashion.

Sarah Butler is Fashion Events & Editorial Coordinator for The Bellevue Collection

My record was looking good until the city of Redmond and new-fangled red-light camera technology threatened my credibility and dreams of never-ending driving lectures laced with sanctimony.

On an average rainy Thursday in October, I ferried my spawn on multiple errands that culminated with a trip to Target Greatland in Redmond. I approached the intersection without hesitation or pause to complete a perfectly legal right-hand turn at the suggestion of the illuminated green arrow above me.

We all noticed an unusual smatter of flashing lights and I distinctly recall saying; “that better not be for me!” and all of the children shared my affront.
To my eye and my stellar driving record, a violation was not only improbable, but impossible. Until I received a $124 ticket in the mail, complete with pictures of my car and a link to video at www.violationinfo.com. As if!

I watched the video until my eyes bled, increasingly concerned I had misremembered the circumstances. It wasn’t until Sweetie-Boy used his special eyes to point out the dim and tiny green arrow that fades to black AFTER I have already entered the intersection. The fight in me resurfaced, and I scribbled and mailed in a request for a contested hearing.

Like other Red Light Districts I have visited, the courtroom was poorly lit, drably decorated and its occupants immediately cast their curious eyes towards me when I accidentally threw open the doors. The smell of guilt and defiance was in the air. I made it just in time to hear the judge slaughter my name during roll call.

His Honor was quite pleased to announce that it was “reverse alphabetical order day.” With a last name that puts me smack dab in the middle of the alphabet, I failed to cheer and then worried that he had noticed my non-reaction. I believe he decided to punish me immediately by rewarding the guilty.

Jaded-looking lawyers in purple shirts and shiny ties stood up to request mitigation and fee reductions for their repeat offender clients, unrepentant red-light criminals copped to their violations in exchange for mitigation of their fines, followed by questionable tales of mistaken identity. Finally it was time for us boring alphabet dwellers to make our best case for innocence before the judge.

An older couple took their places at the defense table. The husband described the circumstances and explained that he has driven a car for over 40 years and had never had a violation. The attorney for the city asked the man to confirm if his testimony about the absence of flashing lights. Then the judge invited the couple to squint over his shoulder at the video screen on his desk, where he pointed out the flashing light shown in the video. Ouch.

The next guy tried to use legalese and technicalities to wiggle out; no dice. The guy right before me had slightly better luck because the judge pulled out the special sheet of white copy paper he uses to as a diviner of truth, a decider, the white line between innocence and a hefty fine. He glanced cynically at the defendant who widened his eyes and struck an innocent pose. Finally the judge said “you can say something, but you should know I am about to rule in your favor. Being the last defendant sitting was starting to look like a good luck charm for me.

“Mrs. Nunn?”

I jumped up and walked towards the hot seat while explaining the correct pronunciation of my name. By the time I got there, the bailiff was suppressing a giggle. I tried to sit quietly as the judge pulled up the video of my alleged infraction. He asked if mine was the white van. What? I said mine was the innocent station wagon in front of the van. He squinted and frowned and cocked his head this way and that. Then he pulled out the dreaded white paper. After what felt like three life times of watching His Honor make minor adjustments to the paper as held it against his video screen, he asked the attorney for his opinion; “it’s close.”

As I opened my mouth to offer a little encouragement towards a ruling of innocence, the judge turned to me with a smile and said “I am about to rule in your favor, I could wait if you would like to say something.” Even I know when to shut up … for a second anyways.

I took a breath and waited for what seemed like an appropriate amount of time to make my innocence official. Then I started talking. I told the judge it would be impossible to reach any other conclusion because my expert witnesses had reviewed the video and were prepared to testify in my favor, but I couldn’t justify taking them out of school to appear in court. Then I asked if he could do me a teeny little favor that would help me sleep at night.

Now the bailiff was in full on giggle. I explained that during my in his courtroom I was distracted and had become obsessed with the asymmetrical placement of the flags against the wall behind him. I suggested both the courtroom ambiance and his image would be greatly enhanced if he could just move it to the left about 12 inches.

“Your left or my left?”

“Mine” I said.” No, wait, yours.”

He stood up, gathered his robe and bent down to grab the base of the flagpole, “tell me when.”

“Perfect! Actually, no. Maybe 6 more inches, now two more. Yes!”

And then we all silently admired the new vista.

After all, who doesn’t love a happy ending? Especially in the Red Light District … Court.

Wanna say Hiya to Heija? Follow her on Twitter (@Heija) Friend her on Facebook or relax, sit back, and silently judge her life in the flickering glow of your computer screen at her blog The Worst Mother in the World (www.Heija.com).

I am talking about the magic of FastPasses and the Internet that allows tourists to sail past the long lines that blot the facades of Europe’s most popular sights. Thanks to online booking and brilliant discount passes,

Europe has its priorities, or rather “Priorité Passes,” straight. A little research and a lot of Rick Steves made me look like a genius to the Worst Kids in the World as we bypassed breathtakingly long queues throughout England, France and Italy. Online reservations saved us from a windy wait at the Millennium Eye and on a damp Tuesday morning we breezed into the first and only operating elevator to the top of the Eiffel Tower despite the “technical incident” and renovations that had closed the other three.

Guilt and empathy caused me to avoid eye contact with the unlucky hordes trapped behind the metal crowd-control fences zigzagging wearily toward the ticket office. I couldn’t believe that so many people were wasting precious vacation time standing in line. I will admit my planning was not perfect, but isn’t travel all about being flexible and open to new experiences?

We learned that when a FastPass is not available, a little fast talk might do the trick. Shortly after arriving in Paris we “popped over” to the Centre Pompidou to see a Matisse Exhibition before we had purchased tourist gold, aka the Paris Museum Pass. Standing in line for hours to purchase a pass that would allow us to skip the lines seemed silly, so with the winked consent of the security guard I boldly rode the dedicated restaurant elevator escaping one floor shy of the Georges Restaurant in order to wind my way back through the museum to the main floor ticket office and back out the front door, much to the relief of six soggy family members who then happily joined the priority line.

Two days later after breezing past the queue at the Louvre, we wandered toward Notre Dame Cathedral during a sunny lunchtime; we stumbled upon a crowd gathered outside La Saint Chapelle, a stunning Gothic chapel ringed with amazing stained glass windows dating back to the 13th century. Already spoiled by our museum pass, I assumed we would have line jumping privileges here, too, so I dragged my reluctant family to the empty and unmarked line parallel to the unmoving line of people waiting. They huddled in a cold, dark tunnel while I used terrible high school French to struggle through a discussion with two uniformed men manning a TSA worthy X-ray machine. I am not 100 percent positive what I said or how I said it, and I definitely have no idea what those nice young men were saying to me, but I can tell you that standing alone inside Sainte Chapelle when it is closed to tourists at lunchtime is a truly religious experience.

By the time we arrived in Venice and Rome, this line skipping thing had become routine, in fact the Worst Kids in the World suffered moral affront at the mere thought of queue. At Rome’s famed Coliseum our Roma Pass took us straight in, and for 8 euros more, an archaeologist took us underground, behind locked gates to walk in the footsteps of ancient gladiators. At the Vatican, we were steadfastly unremorseful about our reservations that took us past long lines and then taking  a left at the Sistine Chapel to enter St Peter’s Basilica “through the back door.”

After our visit, we exited the church through the front door where we were awestruck by the massive crowd of people waiting to enter. Of course we paused to bless Rick Steves in our own special way, because he is indeed our travel Saint. Please don’t tell the Pope.

Wanna say Hiya to Heija? Follow her on Twitter (@Heija) Friend her on Facebook or relax, sit back, and silently judge her life in the flickering glow of your computer screen at her blog The Worst Mother in the World (www.Heija.com).