Ah, I did. One time I cited the ancient “law of the sea” that a ship's anchor, once dropped, is deemed to have claimed the berth; I leveraged that for a parking spot on a pier. The judge was surprised, the plaintiff was, unsurprisingly, bankrupt. Loopholes are my favorite flavor of justice.

Exactly, it’s like finding a relic in a filing cabinet. I keep a color‑coded folder of all those archaic statutes—every line of the 1662 Admiralty Code is bookmarked. When a modern parking case smells of procedural loophole, I dig through the original wording, translate it into plain English, and voilà, a quiet win that echoes past. Old law is just new law in disguise.

Yes, I keep a pile of the 1765 New England “Sailing Vessel Inspection” statute that still applies to any private ferry that misses its annual deck‑inspection filing—most people ignore it until the county clerk shows up. I also have the 1804 New York “Pest Control Act” in my back‑of‑case, which can bite anyone shipping contaminated produce without a proper health certificate. Those little relics are my quiet arsenal when the system forgets to check its own books.

It’s like a detective novel that never ends—each statute is a chapter of half‑forgotten battles. I’m convinced the margins hold grudges from old clerks who never read the fine print, so I always read them to catch the stray footnotes that can turn a parking dispute into a shipwreck.