TIME TO GO AWAY

 IT’S TOO DAMN HOT

There comes a time in every Miami lawyer’s summer when the seersucker suit starts to suffocate, the courthouse AC wheezes in protest, and the iced cafecito sweats faster than your last cross-exam under Judge Thomas's stare. That time, dear readers, is now.

It is too damn hot.

Like “sixth circle of Hialeah hell” hot.

 Like “I just saw a bailiff fry an egg on the sidewalk of the REGJB” hot. 

The kind of heat that makes the parking lot at 1351 look like the surface of Mercury and has the usual suspects at the PD’s office fantasizing about taking depositions in Reykjavik.

A few seasoned attorneys have the right idea: briefcases packed, auto-replies set, and they’re already in the mountains of North Carolina or sipping something chilled in the south of France (because appellate extensions taste better with Bordeaux). The rest of you? You trudge from courtroom to courtroom, dodging puddles of sweat and pretending that polyester is “lightweight.”

And yet—despite the melting faces and scorched tempers—justice, like that one AC on the seventh floor grinds on. Judges still bang gavels, ASA’s still offer pleas no one wants except victims, and some poor civil lawyer without a vacay airbnb on the Cape is still trying to schedule a depo in August.

So here’s your legal tip of the week: File that continuance. Reset that depo. Put the jacket in storage. And if your case isn’t first up on the calendar, maybe—just maybe—get out of Dodge. Let the courthouse bake. It’ll still be here in September.

Yours in sunscreen and sanity,

Rumpole

P.S. If anyone sees Judge De La O who is everywhere, covering everyone (but no longer an admin Judge) in robes and flip-flops again, please send photos. The people demand transparency.