Jurius Interruptus

Yes, it's an interesting life I lead. Actually, it's not that interesting at all, but there does seem to be something going on most of the time, more of the time than I would like, to be honest.

My stint of being at the personal whims of the Scale Lady, ie Jury Duty, is about to come to a welcome end. April 7th, I think it is. In fact, it was only a couple of weeks ago as I was brushing my teeth before work that I was thinking, "Mercy me, only a month and six days till the end of my Jury Time." Then that morning what should hit my desk at work but a letter calling me out again to the old US District Courthouse for another round of "In the criminal justice system, the people are represented by two separate, yet equally important groups."

Yes, I was to drive back to the lovely town of A'don for another chance to get picked to be on a real-live jury. Which actually, speaking of "Law and Order," even though we weren't but I just quoted it above, going to the whole Jury Pool Party is not unlike standing in a police line-up. A bunch of us show up at the courthouse, they look at us, turn us to the left and right, make us speak, possibly ask to see our teeth (pretty dicey where I come from), and then they pick out which of us will decide their defendants' fates. I was lucky enough not to be picked last time round, even if it did sting my feelings a little bit, and so I was pretty sure I'd have to go back once more before my time was up, and I was almost as sure I'd feel the icy hand of the Scale Lady upon my shoulder this trip. For few escape jury duty twice in a row.

Now, I was to be in A'don at 8:30am, which was a bit of a bummer since it's two hours away, and I'd toyed with the idea of going down the night before and hoteling it to ensure my timely arrival in court. If you'll recall, the last time I did the whole Jury Thing I overslept through 3 blaring alarm clocks, put on my pre-picked outfit only to find out it was too big, and arrived in front of God, the judge, and everybody looking like a full-blown heroin addict. And while it may have contributed to the fact that I didn't get picked last time and was therefore a good thing, it's also quite hard on the intestines to be in a constant rush like that. Plus the fact that this route to A'don is the exact same route where I was stuck on the decrepit bridge for two hours and five minutes, and Uncle Sam doesn't take kindly to those kind of delays.

In the end, I decided against the whole hotel thing, because I got someone who agreed to call me at 5am on Tuesday morning. And wonder of wonders, I was awake when the call came. Getting ready was a breeze, clothes that fit, coffee made, hair halfway decent, plenty of time to disguise the fact that I hadn't slept, and since I was running so ahead of schedule, I left right at 6 am so I could take an alternate route to A'don. This involved two interstates and more miles, but it was 65 mph the whole way and had no maddening road construction delays.

So instead of screeching into the municipal parking lot on two wheels and running like a woman possessed for the courthouse, I ended up getting there 45 minutes early. And though A'don is a quaint little town, at 7:45 am there's not a lot of activity one can indulge in. So I drove around a little and gassed up podmobile2, and on my way into town, passed the large Higher Learning complex in town. The huge matrix sign was flashing outside the entrance, and I happened to look at it when it flashed, "Food City Meats." Now, Food City is a grocery chain around here, and I wondered exactly what I would learn in the Food City Meats class. That thought had barely been entertained when I saw what next flashed on the sign. Now, I was driving, so maybe I wasn't paying the best of attention, but I swear it looked like the next flashing entry was "Understanding and Controlling Hats." Yes, it was early, but I wasn't particularly sleepy, and I immediately decided I'd much rather go to the controlling my hat class than the managing my Food City meats class.

Anyway, I cruised into the parking lot this time, found a nice spot, and still had time to read a little before the time came.

I walked into the courthouse, handed over my bag (to x-ray), keys, and spare change to the security guy, and walked through the metal detector. And I beeped. I was so excited! I'd never beeped before! So out running came the Wand Man, and he scanned me all over till they discovered it was my new fancy bracelet that was making me beep. Then I was handed back my other belongings, and the security guy started giving me a big speech about taking food and drink into the courtroom. No one else got this speech, and I was very puzzled and looking at him like he was from outer space, and he ended with, "So, OK?" And I had no idea what he was talking about so I just said, "Excuse me?" And he said, "Ma'am, we can provide you with bottles of water to drink during breaks, but you're not allowed to drink whatever is in that bottle in your bag when you're in the courtroom, OK?" So then I went on to explain to him that I'd have to be pretty desperate in the proceedings to break into and start drinking the bottle of perfume I carry in my bag, and all was well again.

After I'd gone to the Jury Lady to check in, the first person I saw was the client of ours at work who was there the last time I was. The second person I saw was the nice lady I kind of hung onto last time, since she'd been a juror before. Then I started looking around and got a distinct feeling of deja vu. These were the exact same people I'd had to hang around with the first time. To a person, with the exception of those who actually got called to serve. I was already feeling very wary of the whole day, for not only do few people escape jury duty twice, but even fewer escape it twice when paired with the same people they were with the first time.

At 8:30 they finally let us into the little courtroom we were in last time, only it wasn't teeming with lawyers and stenographers and the like. It was empty, save for us, and this time they wouldn't let any of us go sit in the jurors' chairs like I got to do last time. We sat on cold, hard wooden benches, worse than church, and while I was sitting with the lady I met last time, making polite conversation about not wanting to get picked, what should I hear behind me. The voice of good old Mr L, the school bus driver who spoke once at the last jury picking and fell so in love with the sound of his voice that he wouldn't shut the fuck up. And guess what. He didn't shut the fuck up this time, either. He knew the hometowns and families of every single person sitting around him - because in some way or other someone they knew had ridden his fucking school bus! Good God's Hat, that man talked more about the school bus than anyone who's ever driven one, ridden on one, been hit by one, or even seen one. I wanted to die. Well, that's a lie, really, I didn't want to die, I wanted to stand up and scream, "Will you stop talking for one single fucking second?! And stop with the school bus!" But I didn't, and it was hard, believe me.

Our 8:30 became 8:50, and finally the Jury Lady came into the room to give us all the Jury Spiel. We all knew the spiel because we'd been there before, but she gave it anyway, without mentioning a school bus one time, may I add, which was remarkable, because this lady spoke just like a first grade teacher. Which, seeing the throng assembled with me, and imagining others that could be worse, was a good thing, I guess. She said this was a criminal and not a civil case, 14 of us would be picked (2 alternates), and that the trial was scheduled for one day, but they made no guarantees. "Anything can happen in a trial," she stressed. Then she told us we'd be starting shortly, and if we weren't picked, we'd probably be out of there by 10 am. And then asked, quite absent-mindedly and as an afterthought, "Were any of you here a couple of weeks ago for the death penalty case? No one?" she continued, as looks of horror took over all our faces. "Oh, well," she said, and walked out.

And so I waited some more on that hard bench, listening to Mr L. 9:00 became 9:15, which became 9:30, which became 9:45, and at 9:50 the Jury Lady came back in and said, in her talking-to-kids voice, "Well, we've hit a snag. This happens sometimes. I'm going to make you all some coffee, and we'll get things going in no time." She also let us get up and walk around, and go to the soft drink machine outside, but I didn't; however, I was now seriously considering breaking out that bottle of perfume and having a swig.

And so people were talking and drinking coffee and listening to Mr L talk about the wonders of the 1997 Yellow Bird School Bus Model A107 and having a high old time, and there were rumors flying about that someone or other had seen a lawyer leave the building, professing to be "no longer than 30 minutes." The nice lady beside me mentioned that with all this delay there'd be no chance of a one-day trial, and I saw my chances of seeing "American Idol" that night heading down the dumper, and thought about having to get up again the next day (if picked) to do this all again. I was getting just the least bit depressed.

Finally, at 10:40, a full two hours and ten minutes after getting there, we were called into the Big Courtroom. This was a first for me, as it was getting some renovation the first time around, and I was only familiar with the little courtroom we'd just been in. The Big Courtroom was impressive, let me tell you. It was huge, the judge's desk was on a scaffold about 15 feet up in the air, there were big TV screens everywhere, and little individual ones at each juror's chair. There were big gold stars on the massive woodwork on the far wall, I mean, it was a room fit for Sam Waterston himself.

And in another stunning deja vu moment, there 15 feet above us was the same judge as last time, the judge who admonished a poor guy who had the nerve to work night shift. And the same prosecutor, the boy who couldn't be more than 16 years old and who was probably driven to court by his mom. The defense attorney was a new one, it was a woman, and there were press people sitting in the back row of the courtroom. It was nice, but still not nice enough to make me want to stay there all day, and possibly two days now.

Once we'd all shuffled in and taken our places, the judge began to speak. "You are all here because you were picked to become part of a jury for a trial that, that was to be held today." Huh? He continued, "However, and believe me, this is the rarest of occasions, unfortunately, today we cannot proceed to trial with this case."

Dodged another one! I let out a puff of air I swear must have been audible.

Instead of saying, "So, OK, see ya round!" this judge, because judges like to talk almost as much as Mr L, went on for about 15 minutes explaining to us how this hardly ever happens, and we'd still get our jury duty money, and he was so sorry for the inconvenience, and that we were all such good people for sitting there on those hard benches and drinking coffee and listening to the wonders of the Yellow Bird A107 school bus, but that there just wasn't a thing he could do about it.

And during all this flowery explanation and apology, I was still gooning around looking at the fabulous courtroom, and I noticed that although there was a defense attorney, there didn't seem to be a defendant. Then I started wondering if the reason they couldn't proceed to trial is because he took a powder and decided not to show. And if the 30 minutes a lawyer needed was to go try and find the guy. (Or gal. Sorry.)

Anyway, we were finally released at about 10:45, free again, and I did a repeat of last jury trip when I decided to go shoe shopping, and spent more than what I'll make for that day's excursion on shoes.

And they're great shoes, but I kind of wonder if I could have used the money to make a last-minute entrance into "Understanding and Controlling Hats" at the Higher Learning Center. Cause I think that's a class I might enjoy.

Betland's Olympic Update:
* IMPORTANT AND DESPERATE ANNOUNCEMENT: You think I forgot, didn't you? Well, I didn't, and I'm still looking for people to send me entries for the Kim Jong Il fashion show. I have two pictures and a promise for a third, and if I could just get two more, we could let the fashion show begin. Now, if you have no idea what I'm talking about, scoot to my Feb 18, 2007 blog. I'll help you in any way I can, short of doing it for you. Come on, be part of my blog, people!
* I'd just like to take this opportunity to wish you all a very Happy Alan Arkin Day! Yes, it's Alan Arkin Day. Think I'm kidding? Well, I'm not - check it out.