I hate sunrises and I hate flying. I really hate combining the two. But on Monday morning, I had to get up at 4:00 a.m. to get dressed and out the door by 4:30 a.m. to be at the airport by 5:15 a.m. to catch a 6:00 a.m. flight from Ontario to Oakland. I got there early and bought some breakfast at Carl's Jr. While I was eating, they started boarding my plane, and I had to check one of my briefcases. I seriously considered catching the next flight so I could have both cases with me, but I decided that it's best to stay with your original flight, so that if there is a crash, your relatives don't get psyched out thinking you're alive when you're dead, or vice versa. That, and the one hour delay could have made me late for the mediation, so I relented and handed over a bag. Since I ended up arriving only 45 minutes early, I think it is safe to assume that I would have indeed been late had I waited for the 7:00 a.m. flight.
And that would have been really embarrassing but for the fact that two of my three co-counsel ended up arriving 35 minutes late themselves. I was the only one of the group who flew out the morning of the meeting. Everyone else spent the night in San Francisco so they could wake up hung over refreshed and ready to meet. I, the lone dissenter, chose to spend the night with my wife. I'd rather get five hours of sleep with her than eight hours of sleep alone in a hotel room in the city.
The forecast called for heavy rain here, heavy rain there and heavy rain in between. I was pleased to encounter only light rain in the city, where I had to walk two blocks from the BART station to the mediator's office. That office became our home for about 10 hours. We had lunch ordered in, and we left after the dinner hour, but in time to catch my 8:05 flight home. On the flight home, I ordered a glass of white zin. The flight attendant laughed at me and asked "white zin?" Yeah, yeah, yeah, everyone's a critic. That may be a wussy drink, but I was already 16 hours into my work day and I needed something light on the taste buds that would help relax me but not knock me off my feet.
We did not settle. Eventually, our group of lawyers and clients had rejected a mediator's proposal that represented a very large confidential sum of cabbage. It would have generated a fee that would have been, by itself, the second-largest pile of cash I'd earned in any given year. But we said no, and unless at least two of us change our minds, we are taking the case to trial. Today we reported back to the judge, who gave us three more months to try to work on settlement. He really wants the parties to settle.
When I went to bed Monday night, after an 18 hour work day that caused me to miss the NCAA finals, I felt like I had maybe just pissed away a fortune. But yesterday, with some fresh rain to cleanse my thoughts, I felt more like Reggie Bush would feel after turning down a fat contract worth half the going rate for a top draft pick. It's a lot of money to leave on the table, but the case is worth more than they are offering, and eventually, we will probably see a much better offer. And if we don't, screw 'em. We'll take 'em to trial.
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