In the name of equality, justice is blind. But as a neophyte paralegal set loose on the New York courts, I find myself wide-eyed by what I see every day. I'm working in family law, as in divorces, custody and child support. Think Cupid's arrow turned poison. The high powered celebrity and corporate legal wrangling gets all the media attention, but it's the usual day to day workings of the courts and the very court buildings themselves which have left an impression on me.

Just as there are five boroughs to New York City, there are five counties when it comes to courts: New York (Manhattan), Kings (Brooklyn), Queens, Richmond (Staten Island) and the Bronx. Each county has its own Family Court and Supreme Court, though all are part of the New York State Unified Court System.

That said, the unity implied in "unified" hasn't sunk in yet with the clerks at each court. Case in point: when filing for a divorce in New York County, form UCS 111 (names, occupation, number of children, etc.) now replaces form UCS 113. Form 113 used to be on green paper. Form 111 can now be on any color paper, including green, BUT not white paper. Kings county is still fine with using old form 113 if there are no children involved. If there are children, then use 111. What color paper is kosher in Kings county I

Family Court is supposed to be "friendlier" to navigate than State Supreme Court, but not when it comes to the actual court buildings. The New York County Family Court at 60 Lafayette Street is infamous in architecture circles as an example of form giving not a damn about function. There is little to equate "family" with the building beyond dysfunction. Built in 1975, this polished, black cubist hulk is about as welcoming as the Death Star. Inside, it's a cross between a 1970s sci-fi movie (Logan's run fans rejoice) and the Port Authority before its 1990's facelift. Lots of orange plastic chairs, sharp, wedge cut walls and plenty of poured concrete. The Manson Family is about the only family that could feel warm and secure here.

Across Adams street from Family Court, the staff at the Kings County Clerk's Office have gone in for a far more varied decor than just plants. While the whole first floor Clerk's office blossoms with decorations for the holidays - particularly Christmas - Window 11 takes the cake year-round. Among the few plants on top of a row of file cabinets are a collection of lava lamps, assorted chochkas (including a statue of a maiden riding a bucking bronco) and one of those tacky, electrically animated "paintings" of a waterfall. Special mention for decoration too goes to Room 122, tucked deeper in the court and whose official designation I truly believe to be the Lost Easter Egg, Leprechaun and Elf Department.

The heightened security around the Manhattan courts after September 11th has put off most tourists and architecture buffs from exploring some of the city's great court buildings. Die-hard New Yorkers who pride themselves on knowing the best public rest rooms in town shouldn't let this keep them from visiting New York State

While down at the courts make sure you stop into 80 center Street (home to an annex of State Supreme Court), and hop on the elevator run by the uniformed operator with the wandering eye. The minute the elevator cab door closes, he lobs trivia questions at his passengers: a wide range of "who" and "when were" questions about sports, TV and film. It's a game show masquerading as an elevator ride and it's great to see him stump the guys from the DA's office in the building.

Of course the real characters that never cease to surprise me are my fellow citizens who come to the court seeking legal address. Many have no idea how to dress for the occasion. Older black women tend to come to court done up as if they are going to church - big hats included. If only the young mothers fighting to keep the City from taking away their children would also error on the side of too much clothing. Showing up to court in tight shorts and a halter top is not the best way to make a first impression with the judge.

But if you really want to make a lasting impression, go ahead and threaten a judge. We had one client who did just that: writing the judge in her case to let him know she was going to blow him to bits Needles to say his honor was not favorably disposed toward our client.

That the woman in question in fact worked for the court system would seem to make her threats all the more bizarre. But then again, all those years toiling in New York's system of law and disorder may have pushed her over the edge. If only she had taken inspiration from the plant man at Kings County Family court or the lava lamp clerks on Adams street and found her own little escape from the law. Instead, the only escaping she'll be doing is trying to tunnel her way out of Rikers Island.