Jury Duty

So I go through the mail one day to find it. I have gotten this before, once or twice. But it’s never pleasant to get it again. A summons. Thankfully, not to appear as defendant, but rather my presence is being requested to be a juror. Sure, you know the rigmarole by now, jury of your peers. Seriously, there is no idiot that is idiot enough to be my peers. Trust me, you don’t want to walk into no court and see 12 me’s being a jury. I will throw your guilty ass in the chair, yes, just for speeding.

The dreaded day comes along when you have to call the number to see if you are one of the lucky few. Now, I have been down this road before, and have managed to successfully dodge the bullet. Guess what. I did again this year.

OK, you all know me enough to call bullshit on that. Would I really write a Klog about not going to jury duty? No, of course not. Fuck, it’s my turn to go. So now, come Monday, instead of looking for a job and trying to be a productive member of society, I am being asked to judge productive members of society. And if you’ve never been to court, the prospect can be kinda scary. Even though I have been to court, this is no less unsettling. Many moons ago, we busted some kid stealing from my Sam Goody. Punkass contested, so a court date was set, and I got to go. I showed and the cop showed. Punkass FTA’d (cop slang for failure to appear). Hell, even the judge didn’t bother to show. It was just us in a small, undaunting empty court room. I was so tempted to jump up to the bench and just bag the gavel, but the officer advised against it.

And I know real court is not like the plethora of judge shows that dot the weekday TV schedule. Seriously, when you are an unemployed louse, and just sit around all day in your filth and squalor, watching TV and drinking 40’s and watching TV, it seems like there’s 50 damn judge shows on. People I never even heard of are there in robes, presiding over cases. I sit in my own robe over a case of Natty Light.

Monday comes-as it always does, ya know-and I dutifully arrive to the court house at the set upon time. I bring a bag with me that has far too many magazines and books for me to read in one day. But that’s ADD for you; an hour with Maxim, an hour with Uncle John’s Bathroom reader, etc. Before you go into the jury marshalling room, they scan the card they sent you. About 10 people in front of me is a woman, who has the card for tomorrow. Yup, she’s there on the wrong day. Do you want this motard to judge you? We all snicker behind her, then hurriedly check our cards to make sure we haven’t made the same dunderheaded mistake. I guess about 200 or so of us are now ‘marshalled’ into this big room.

A very polite woman gives us instruction as to what we can expect to happen during the course of the day. She then introduces a real judge. He thanks us for doing our duty, and explains the importance of having us there. And he cracks jokes. It’s a very good pep talk, the guy is very sincere, and his jokes aren’t half bad. OK, so now we’re all set. To wait…….

We don’t have to stay in this room. You can wander about the hall, or there is a lounge at the end of the hall with vending machines. The polite woman informs us that there is no WiFi, but you can get a cable to hook into the net out in the lounge. So right away, all the techno-nerds and work do-gooders get their cable and go to the lounge. The only way you can get on line is if you put your laptop on a shelf that is in the wall. Instantly, it’s full of people who suddenly resemble working in cubicles. Lemmings.

I had debated bringing mine in, and doing some klogging while I was there, but I’m glad I didn’t. Aside from the cable fiasco, I have a few, and just a few, pirated tracks on here, not to mention I am sure some porno some how slipped in. I would go from juror to defendant pretty damn quick. The polite woman also asked for cell phones to be muted, so it’s not long before you hear phones going off. That should be a surefire way to get appointed to a jury if you ask me. I mean, let’s make life easy here.

We know there are 2 cases scheduled for today. The judge told us the longer we are not picked, the better off the case has been decided without the need for a jury. Let’s face it, everyone is pulling for early dismissal like we’re in third grade. But we just sit. I use this opportunity to finish a book (about the history of jokes, who keeps working for you, baby?). Motards go outside in the hallway to loudly talk into their cell phone. There was this one yahoo that was so fricking loud, that I actually got up and closed the door so we didn’t have to hear his babble. I heard some people whisper “thanks”.

As I continue to write in stream of consciousness, I realize I left out a key point. The night before, we made tacos that were pretty damn hot. So all day Monday, I had terrible gas pains. I mean suddenly running to the men’s room because I really thought I was going to shit myself. My ass got a workout because I was clinching so much, lest I crack a rat out loud. Every time I would shift in my seat, I would feel some bubble conjure up in my stomach. I would try to time it somehow so that when I went to the men’s room, it was clear so I could gas away. A few times I went on the bowl just in case there was any “collateral damage”.

So after I Finished Maxim, I felt myself getting drowsy. I could fell my eyes closing, my head drooping. The polite lady takes the podium and says, “OK, we’re selecting a jury.” O shit! “We’ll call random juror numbers. If we call yours, please step outside to the hallway.” She even calls this bad bingo. All the juror numbers she calls are in random order, so you never feel off the hook, and she has to call 40 of us.

I realize now that a jury myth has been busted. I believe we’ve all head the theories about how not to get picked. Don’t shower, don’t comb your hair. Read books like The Anarchist Cookbook or The Satanic Bible. Read magazines like High Times, Oui or Cracked. Hell, even I will admit to toying with the idea of breaking out the old knee brace and crutches and feigning ‘hardship’. Now I am glad I didn’t, and you shouldn’t think about it either.

I dodge that bullet, I don’t get called. I am awake now after this close brush with juryness. Not too soon after, we get to go to lunch. I wander down to the courthouse ‘café’. An irony of this whole situation hits me. Uncle Sam will give me nine whole dollars for performing this vital duty today, plus mileage. Lunch is one Italian hoagie, a bottle of grape juice (the closest thing to wine I can find) and 2 soft pretzels. Total cost for lunch; 7.15. Now throw in gas and tolls, and I still lost money. Jesus, I just can’t catch a break here.

But lunch is actually quite good. I have the best damn Italian hoagie I have ever had in a courthouse. I break out another Maxim and start reading. An older gentleman, who isn’t wearing a juror badge sits at the table right next to me. I can only assume he is a lawyer, or someone who performs some vitally important civic duty. I am reading an article about how to give it to your girl rough. Yea…..

We re-assemble to the room. I proudly finish a Maxim and get halfway into the next. Soon, the polite woman returns, and says we are off the hook. You’ve never seen a previously well behaved bunch of citizens become an unruly rush to get the hell outta there. You have to get your card scanned out, so motards rush right up and wait in line whilst the smartest among us just wait out the storm.

So now I am off the hook for the next 3 years. Maybe you won’t be so lucky. And if you aren’t so lucky, and you do get called, I hope you think of this and it makes your life easier. And, o yea, you better find me innocent.