Jury duty, Day 1:
I rode Dirk (my sexy new bike- and yes John, his last name is Diggler) to the gorgeous art-deco building that houses the Ramsey County Courthouse in lovely downtown St. Paul at 8:30 this morning.
As I was passing through security, I caught a snippet of the conversation the two security guards were having.
*Sketch from the R. Kelly trial.
Security guard #1: "I just wasn't that into this movie."
Security guard #2: "And you call yourself a Will Smith fan? Humph."
In the jury room- a windowless, fluorescent-lit demonstration in oppressive institutional interior decorating- I checked in, took my "Guide to how you got suckered into Jury Duty" pamphlet and plopped into a very uncomfortable chair.
Then my butt went numb.
Then we were given a 15-minute "break". We all chuckled and looked around. A break from what? Ass-widening? Blank-staring? October 2006 Better Homes and Gardens reading?
Then we came back and waited some more. I watched the twitchy guy to my right get up, sit down, get up again, sit down again, get up and leave the room for 30 seconds, sit down again, get up for a glass of water, sit down again, get up again and just stand there, sit down again, get up and ask the woman at the desk a question, sit down again...
At least I wasn't sitting next to him. I guess that's a plus.
Then more waiting. I listened to the grizzled older woman who seems to have made a career out of jury duty discussing with anyone who would listen how last time this happened, and last time that happened, and when she was here last time they did things this way...
Hell, at $20/day, who wouldn't want to be a regular?
Then more waiting.
No one got called AT ALL.
Then my group was dismissed at 11:10. I apologized to the people sitting around me who had to stay, but I suspected they were grateful I was leaving as I was really sweaty from the bike ride and probably smelled. Plus, my allergies are haywire today so I kept sniffling and blowing. And it was so quiet in there that every time I took a sip of my iced coffee, I felt like everyone in the room could hear me swallow. And my hair was really fucked up from the bike ride and I was feeling self-conscious about it even though there were several people there in what appeared to be pajamas.
Riveting, I know.
Maybe tomorrow I will be able to give you a play-by-play of someone picking their nose.
It's going to be a long week, folks. Get comfortable.