Fear can grip your belly like a boa constrictor when you don't know what to expect. Jason Esposito felt that pain, and more as he headed down the carpeted hallway.

“I need to stop in the men's room.” Peeling away from his lawyer and elbowing the metallic door with the odd male symbol, he barely made it to the toilet before vomiting and dry heaving into the bowl. Sliding down next to the metallic partition he began sobbing and moaning, soaking his new suit in spit and tears. His chest heaving he couldn't get control of himself until he heard the squeak of the bathroom door.

“Jason, are you ok?” His lawyer asked gently.

“Can you give me a minute, I'll be right out.”

Grabbing onto the hook on the stall door, he slowly rose to a standing position. With a slow click, he opened the door to check himself in the smudged mirror. Bloodshot eyes, sweaty forehead, and beard wet from vomit, he turned on the faucet to clean up. Splashing cool water on his face, grabbing a comb from his pocket, he smoothed out his beard and combed his thick curly hair back into place. Using the hand dryer as a makeshift steamer, he slid under it and pulled on his suit coat to try and remove the stains and wrinkles. Checking himself one last time, he headed out into the hall where his lawyer waited.

Putting his arm around Jason, his attorney squeezed him gently saying, “Its gonna be OK.”

Approaching the end of the corridor, Jason glanced up at the lettering above the doors:

US Federal Court and felt his stomach do flip flops. Steadying his nerves and saying a silent prayer, he placed a shaking hand on the padded doors and whispered, “Let's do this.”