We'll Always Have Paris

My lucky sister-in-law, Ashley, is headed to Paris with her mother next month. Ashley emailed me asking if I had any advice about great lunch places and interesting little shops.

I wish I could have helped her, but I never went to THAT Paris. We went to Paris with our two sons in tow. So we visited the Paris of pre-teen and young teenage boys.

This was the Paris of skeleton-filled underground catacombs and ancient mummies at the Louvre. The Paris of Disney-theme parks in the suburbs and lunch from street vendors, not little cafes.

Someday I’ll go back to Paris and I’ll see the gardens at Giverny. I’ll dine at the hot new restaurants and sip fine French wine for hours on a sidewalk café. I’ll shop to my heart’s content at quaint little boutiques.

But the whole time, I’ll probably be missing that little boy who got lectured by a snooty Champs Elysee waiter for spilling his ice cream. And his older brother who insisted we go to the Paris Sewer Museum. These were the guys who wore their matching berets all over the City of Lights. They’re the ones who, for me, made Paris magical.

Acceptances and Antibiotics

I got a thick envelop from the University of Arizona, accepting me to their very fine law school this fall.

I heard back from them so quickly I'm not sure they even glanced at my file. “Numbers good? From Arizona? Not a convicted felon? Okay, she’s in.”

They can skip my whole application if they want. The bottom line is they accepted me!

I would have been wildly excited if I hadn’t been felled by a bad sinus infection. When I heard from U of A, any wild excitement I might be able to summons was reserved for when my head stopped pounding.

Here’s how I cured a sinus infection when I lived overseas:

1. Walk to the drug store and buy Amoxicillan.
2. Take Amoxicillan and feel better.

Here’s how I cure a sinus infection in the U.S.:

1. Find a doctor and make an appointment.
2. Drive to the office.
3. Fill out all the paperwork.
4. Wait around the waiting room.
5. Get weighed and have my blood pressure checked.
6. Wait around examination room.
7. See the doctor.
8. Get a prescription for Amoxicillan from the doctor.
9. Drive to the drug store.
10. Wait 20 minutes for the prescription to be filled.
11. Buy Amoxicillan.
12. Take Amoxicillan and feel better.

My new doctor commented that I questioned him “like an attorney.” I told him I was, in fact, starting law school this fall.

He took this as an open invitation to pound me with lawyer jokes. Looking back, I think he must say this to ALL his patients, trolling for some lawyer to pounce upon. But I am NOT a lawyer. I have not yet spent one minute in law school, and I already have to put up with lawyer jokes? I guess lawyers don’t get to be sensitive little flowers.

After my less than tepid response to his lawyer jokes, the doctor asked me what kind of law I wanted to study. I was very tempted to say “Medical malpractice, of course,” but I wanted my Amoxicillan.

No Rolls Royce

Okay, class. We’ve previously discussed how getting into law school is all about the numbers (LSAT and GPA). But it’s not just the applicants sweating these numbers. Law schools must keep their incoming students’ LSAT and GPAs at least as high as last year or risk dropping in the national rankings.

So if your scores fall below the school’s 25 percent mark, you have to be pretty special to make it in. They might make an exception if you, for example, discovered a cure for cancer, are a member of some underrepresented minority, or if Grandpa is a big donor. (Even then, the school is looking for FUTURE donations. If Grandpa has kicked the bucket after donating his millions to Save the Whales, you are out of luck no matter how much money he previously donated.)

Why am I bringing this up? Because I have been getting very expensive brochures from highly-selective law schools.

I’m not trying to sell myself short. I think I will be a brilliant law student and a fine addition to the profession. (I wouldn’t be applying to law school if I didn’t.) But these schools don’t know how wonderful I am. All they have are my numbers. And my numbers would put me in their “presumed deny” category as my scores are substantially lower than 75 percent of their current students.

So why are they soliciting me? Did they just have a bunch of extra brochures? It’s like the Rolls Royce dealership sending me a brochure. However much I like the car, I won’t qualify for the financing!

I’ve noticed that these information packages do not include offers of application fee waivers. So I would have to pay almost $100 per school for the privilege of being rejected. Is this some kind of strange fund-raising project for them? Or maybe they are trying to boost their selectivity percentages by encouraging people they won’t take to apply.

I’m sure this won’t be the last mystery I encounter on my journey though law school.