Jury Duty

This past Monday, I had a unique opportunity to witness the American Justice System at work.

I had Jury Duty.

I was actually excited about it. Being no stranger to Equity Chorus Calls, the prospect of getting up at 6am to go sit in a room doing nothing for a few hours seemed like a regular Monday to me, and I had nothing else to do that day, so that aspect didn't really bother me.

I went to Benjamin N. Cardozo High School, which had a specialized Law Program of which I was a member. I took criminal and civil law classes all through my last three years there, and I really loved them. They were easily my favorite subjects. I didn't continue through college because I wanted to concentrate on Theatre, but I've often thought that if I weren't going to be an Actor I would want to be a Lawyer.

So naturally, I was really excited at the prospect of serving on a jury. It was a civil court, too, which had always been my preference. Love those torts.

Best part of Jury Duty by far was the Court Officer, Mike. He was HIGHlarious. Every single thing he said was completely infused by how much he hated his life and every single person in the room in front of him. And I can't blame him, based on the people I was surrounded by. He repeated the instruction, "Unfold your juror information card," three times, and even demonstrated, and there were still about three people who didn't understand what he was talking about.

We filled out the questionaire, handed in our ballots, and then we watched Mrs. Doubtfire.

Then I took a little nap.

Then I chatted with Mike a bit.

Then we had lunch.

Then we watched "Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade."

And then we went home. Seriously.

Mike comes into the room with a stack of papers and says, "Okay happy jurors, I have some good news." Pause. "I just saved a bunch of money on my car insurance by switching to Geico."

Nice.

But the actual good news was that we were all being dismissed. Without even being looked at by no lawyers or nothing. So he's calling out names to come and get our dismissal papers, and he's going alphabetically, and he doesn't call my name.

It occurs to me that maybe not everyone is going home now, and maybe not having your name called meant you were going to be questioned by the lawyers as a potential juror. But the room got emptier and emptier and soon I was the only one left.

Mike looks up at me and goes, "What happened?" with this little smirk on his face.

He had my paper. He wanted to call me last so that he could ask for my phone number.

Most creative way I've ever been hit on, I have to say.