My mailbox is an endless wasteland of bills, flyers for Chinese restaurants, and bills. It's so depressing that the arrival of a new Netflix gives me an immediate erection. The arrival of a new Entertainment Weekly brings me to immediate climax. It's sad. But I'd settle for years of boring mail to avoid what was in my box three weeks ago -- a summons for jury duty.
Now, I've never been summoned for duty before, but in my 27 years I have absorbed that absolutely no one enjoys it. And since I recently started an exciting and life-altering job, I wasn't thrilled about the potential of missing days, maybe weeks of work. What follows is a breakdown of my first jury duty experience.
7:00 AM -- My alarm goes off, over two hours earlier than normal. I groan, but try to remind myself that I am about to be an important part of the democratic process, a process detailed in movies great:
and even greater:
No time for breakfast. I have a job to do.
7:45 AM -- Arrive at the courthouse, and after a particularly thorough security check (the gentleman lost a glove inside me), I head upstairs to the Holding Room. In this room, there are 100 people and 100 seats. I am apparently the hundredth person to arrive, and I have but one seating option -- next to an elderly snoring man sporting a visor and enough ear hair to weave a multi-room rug. I take the seat and a sweet old woman gives me an "Ouch...sorry" smile.
8:00 AM -- A young gentleman tells us about the jury process. Basically, we are to stay in this room all day. We could be sent to zero courtrooms or twenty. In each courtroom, the judge may ask you a series of questions, some personal in nature, to decide if you'd make an appropriate juror for the trial. If you are chosen, you are required to serve as a juror for the full trial. Most trials last 5 to 7 business days. Some trails last 10, 20, 30 or more. If you make it to 5 PM without getting selected for a jury, you are free to go home and will not be asked to serve for at least a year. Everyone in the room now has a goal: don't get selected.
Looking around, it is clear that people have dressed to anti-impress. I see a lot of flip-flops, windbreakers...the aforementioned visor. The thought process seems to be "If I look like a bum, they won't pick me for the jury." I understand this point of view, but if the accused is a bum and you look like a bum, the defense would want you on that jury, dig? I decided to split the difference and wear jeans, tennis shoes, and a crisp, collared dress shirt. Not quite bummy enough for the bums, not quite preppy enough for the preps. I also did not comb my hair or shave. We'll see if this strategy pans out.
8:15 AM -- The young gentleman finishes his introduction to the jury world, which contains two remarks I deem wildly inappropriate for mixed company:
1) "Please wear your ID badges at all times. You will notice they do not bear your name, only your Juror ID number. Very Concentration Camp, I know. Sorry about that."
Wow, right? And...
2) "Age does not excuse you from service. We've got jurors who are eighty years old. There is no age limit, and we've learned that people that age are usually happy to get out of the house and feel needed by society."
When he said this, there were at least four eighty year olds in the room.
8:30 AM -- I have the following conversation with an African-American woman seated across from me:
HER: Have you ever seen 12 Angry Men?
ME: I sure have. I was actually in the play in college.
HER: Were you now? Look at you! You an actor?
ME: Not so much anymore, but I used to really enjoy it.
HER: That's great. Which one did you play? Henry Fonda?
ME: No, I was ah...Juror #7.
HER: Which one was that?
ME: Um. Well, he's like -- Um...
HER: The old one?
ME: No, I played, um...I played the really racist guy?
HER: Oh. Oh my.
ME: Yeah.
HER: Guess I better switch seats!
I laugh nervously, and it comes out way too loud and way too forced and we stop talking immediately.
9:00 AM -- I haven't been called yet. I look around and notice that the most attractive male in the room and the most attractive female in the room are now sitting next to each other and flirting intensely. It's amazing how that happens with really attractive people. They just find each other.
It should be noted that I am the second most attractive male in the room. Please do not take this as braggadocio, as it does not speak to how amazingly handsome I am, but rather how amazingly not handsome the rest of the room is. I wonder if I should strike up a conversation with the second most attractive female. I quickly realize that the second most attractive female is a middle-aged Filipino woman with a lazy eye. Seriously. And she is in second place by a considerable margin. Maybe I'll just keep to myself.
10:00 AM -- Still haven't been called. The elderly snoring man next to me has recently jolted awake, and is now dead set on eating a large container of Planter's Peanuts in its entirety. He shakes each handful of nuts in his fist before popping it in his mouth. He does not seem to realize that each shake lobs roughly 20% of the nuts into my lap, face, and hair. I am quite hungry and consider eating these nuts, but I do not trust this man's hand.
10:30 AM -- I have changed seats several times. It's tricky knowing when it is cool to change seats. You can't do it the second a grotesque person sits next to you, because he or she will realize why you are doing it and be offended. I generally wait five minutes each time, regardless of how much dry-mouth-smacking, labored-breathing-and-snorting, or smell-like-urining the individuals are doing.
I mean, this is one heinous group. An old broad at the end of my row has been blowing her nose since we arrived...and has yet to switch tissues. It is stomach-churning. There is a bald man with some sort of flaking skin disease who keeps muttering "there should be a fuckin' bar in here." A Hispanic woman with comically large and quite exposed breasts catches my eye, but not because of the boob size. It is because she has a crucifix squeezed between them. A real mixed message there.
COMICALLY LARGE BREASTS: Hey, look at us!!!!
JESUS CHRIST: Enjoy Hell while you're at it, sinner!!!!
11:00 AM -- Still haven't been called. Amazing. Someone has turned on the television, which is nice. There is a news report about a slain wife and mother. They are interviewing the stabbed woman's husband, and he is crying. It is very sad. "She left me!" he yells. "She left me all alone with our two beautiful babies! She left me all alone with our five year-old daughter and our two year-old son!" There is a long dramatic pause as he collects himself, dries his eyes, and puts his arms around his children. "And she left me with a huge stack of bills!" Something about this makes every single person in the holding room laugh, hard. It's terrible, I suppose, but funny is funny.
12:00 PM -- Lunchtime. If there is a finer meal than the $5 footlong Subway Club on toasted honey oat bread with extra banana peppers, I would like to know what it is. I would like to fucking know right now.
1:30 PM -- I return from lunch feeling pretty confident that I can make it to the end of the day without my name being called. As I am experiencing this feeling, my name is called. I walk with 30 others into the hallway. From this 30, 12 will be chosen to give up their lives for an undisclosed period of time. I don't like my odds. We are informed that we are headed to the ninth floor -- murder cases. Yikes. An elderly Asian woman begins rocking back and forth and shaking. I sort of understand -- who wants to decide the fate of a man's life? Only God and maybe Judge Dredd should be given that sort of power.
1:45 PM -- We enter the courtroom and sit down. Five minutes pass. We are sent into the hallway again. Five more minutes pass. We are brought back into the courtroom. We are told none of us are needed. What a tremendous relief. And yet...what happened in the interim? Did the defendant just say "Hey, gotta come clean with you here, your honor. I don't want to bug these nice people. I totally killed that dude. Killed him real good."?
2:00 PM -- Back in the holding room, and boredom is really setting in. I have finished my book and am now doing what I always do in a crowded room -- give people (what I consider to be) comical names. The woman at the water fountain I have dubbed Assy MacDougal, because roughly 90% of her enormous frame is buttock. The gentleman with his back to me I have labeled Dan Druff, for reasons that should be fairly obvious. And the Mexican guy walking around handing out his business card I have named Pepe. (I know that one isn't particularly funny, but this guy seriously looks like a Pepe.)
2:30 PM -- I am called again. Damn it. My group and I head down to a courtroom. This is the second courtroom I've been in today where the defendant is wearing jeans, sneakers, and an untucked flannel shirt. If you were on trial for murder...for anything, wouldn't you wear a freaking tie?
2:45 PM -- I am preparing for the judge's line of personal questions, and wondering how big a deal it is to lie to a judge. It is perjury, I suppose. Should I risk it? Turns out I don't even need to lie, as I am dismissed again. I am thrilled of course, but also a little hurt. Did they just not like my face? Don't they know I'm the second most attractive male in the holding room?
3:00 PM -- The attractive couple from this morning have taken it up several notches. They're acting like newlyweds. I'm happy for them. Those two really found a great way to pass the time, and that guy just had about four dates worth of conversation...without spending a dime. They're like intimate and shit now. She's comfortable with him and shit. All the getting-to-know-you B.S. is out of the way. He could ask her for a drink at the end of the day and be balls deep in her by American Idol. I hope he does. They actually make a great couple.
Just like me and the woman next to me, who smells like the asshole of a corpse.
4:00 PM -- I can't believe this. I am going to make it. I am going to make it to 5 PM, and then I'll be free. This is amazing. My luck is really turning aroundohshittheyjustcalledmeagain.
4:30 PM -- With a half hour left to go until sweet freedom, the judge tells us that the twelve jurors chosen will be serving on a ten day trial. A TEN DAY TRIAL. This will not stand. I am more than willing to perjur myself to get out of serving now. Drunk driving trial? Great, my best friend was killed by a drunk driver. Drug trial? Great, my grandparents are on drugs. Dinosaur attack? Awesome, my mom's a pterodactyl.
5:00 PM -- They didn't want me. I made it. I am free. I know this blog used to thrive on tales of my legendary bad luck, but I think it may be turning around. There is much happiness and there are many handshakes and high-fives throughout the holding room as everybody packs up their belongings. The man I earlier dubbed Pepe finally works his way over to me and gives me his business card. His name?
Pepe.
I swear to God.
And as for Most Attractive Male and Female in the room? They left together, walked the half mile to the parking garage together, and hugged for a real long time at her car. Will it be a lasting love connection? Jury's still out.
Fans of the Day Man rejoice! EW has learned that FX comedy It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia will return for a 4th season. The half-hour show, about four friends and the Irish dive bar they operate when not getting into unwholesome trouble, is scheduled for a 13-episode run. An air date has not yet been determined, but the writing staff is already sketching out story ideas with production tentatively set to begin in June. The main cast will return in its entirety, including Danny DeVito as the gang's twisted father figure.