A million years ago I agreed to do a divorce for a woman and we could never find her shit heal husband. I sent the sheriff's after him, I sent private process severs after him. I couldn't find the guy and she called and complained to me all the time. I never should have taken it.

One evening she calls the office and I was working late. "He's at (some public housing project apartment)" I call my process server but he was out of town.

I'm so tired of this case I drive over to this apartment building in the next town. A lady answers the door and there are a ton of Mexicans (or some kind of Spanish speaking foreigners) but not my guy. They do admit they know the guy but claim he's not there. I walk in and am kind of looking through the apartment but I don't see him unless he's under a bed.

The people in the apartment weren't confrontional and just waited until I was bored and left so I figured he wasn't in there.

I smelled a rat so I went out and sat in my truck down the street for awhile. Sure enough about five minutes later a guy walks out of a bar down the street and heads back to the apartment building. I follow him and yell his name and the guy turns around and says "Hi!"

Somehow he knew I was coming and ran out to the bar to hide then got a call when I left

I tell him he's served and hold out the divorce papers. He leaps back and says "I didn't touch them" which isn't the law in NY. I dropped them on the ground and walked away with him kind of hopping around and yelling that He didn't sign for them

13 is hot! So was Cameron, but that's another thread.