The enormous wood-paneled courtroom was empty, save for the judge, the two arresting officers, and a tired A&P security guard who wished he’d never met me and just wanted to go home. I kind of felt sorry for him when the judge refused to press charges and chewed him out for wasting the court’s time. “This city is broke and I barely have enough time to sentence rapists and muggers, and you bring me this shit!” he bellowed. I was in bed by five a.m. and strapped in my ballet belt at seven thirty, sharing my adventure with a rapt audience who called me the Cheez Whiz Kid for the rest of the year.
