Jury Duty

If you stay in one place too long they find you. Big brother (i.e. the Government) tracks you down, especially if you vote, and summons you to Jury Duty. Since turning 18 I have managed to be nomadic enough to evade such a summons. Pulling a quick step from Williamsburg to Manhattan bought me 6 years of hiding, then I settled into my magic tree house, and it was only a matter of time before said summons would be lurking in my mailbox. It didn’t help much that I also finally got my NY State Drivers License. So much for that 3 month grace period…what? My Fla. one didn’t expire till 2008 and I saw no need to waste a perfectly horrible picture of myself just to exchange it for another.

However, I was excited about going to Jury Duty, at least excited about getting out of work for at least a day (which turned into 2) thank you county municipal civil court. I had never been to the court house, and when I walked through the door I thought for sure I would heard, “BONG-BONG” and Sam Waterston would greet me with a hand shake and an ice coffee. Needless to say that doesn’t happen but you do get to watch a lame ass video hosted by the late Ed Bradley and Diana Sawyer (which I already knew from seeing the SATC episode when Carrie had jury duty). See art does imitate life or at least cable TV.

The building smelled of hospital and red tape. Getting through security was pleasant enough and finding the “Jury Holding Room” was a breeze but the waiting is the killer. You sit there with strangers looking around at all the plastic plants and praying that no one will actually have the balls to sit right next to you. The rooms are connected by a staircase that vivisects the building. In my mind making the rooms seem like the male scrotum. (sitting alone for hours without someone to talk to isn’t the best for my imagination) We sat their like sperm just waiting to get our shot at being on a selection panel. Suddenly, I feel like there should be a Family Guy cut away to my descriptive scenario, but this is a blog and Seth MacFarlane has yet to return my calls, so let’s get on with it.

I didn’t get picked to do anything the first day. No panel, no nothing it kind of felt like the Justice System didn’t think I was good at kick ball or maybe was just saving me to go in late in the game to score the winning touch down. I prefer the latter. I hate being late, and I hate being in trouble so needless to say I was up the past two days at the crack of ass because if I was late and in trouble with the government I would just die. Late comers obviously pissed me and my neurosis off to no end. Especially the last guy who showed at 10:30 (call time 8:45am) he would so be fired from my movie, “Brandy’s Adventures at 60 Centre Street,” what an asshat, god I wanted to make a citizens arrest.

Yet the second day I just knew I would be called and sure enough the monotone clerk whose soul has long been dead called, “Mariea Rowell,” to my surprise he said it correctly!! I was intent on some variation of my name but god love him he said it perfectly as if he had known me all his life. I gathered my things and went to Jury Selection Room C.

We sat there waiting for the attorneys who would then ask us questions about if we felt we could be fair in this particular case, etc… etc…they repeated the same thing over and over as they approached each of us. Of course by the time they got to me I was ready. The fat, balding, jolly attorney got to me and as he had with every other prospective jury he asked me, “how are you this morning,” that is when I channeled my best Paul Lynde and said, “FAN-TAST-IC, how are you big boy?” the room lost it’s collective mind laughing and probably startled most of them out of their government induced coma. The lawyers laughed and as he looked back down at my questionnaire he saw, “STAND-UP COMIC,” nudging his adversary they nodding together and he moved to the next Juror.

Obviously I was NOT selected to sit on the jury. For whatever reason I got out of it, thanks to my bold and ridiculous personality, I thank you mother & father for making me the smartass I am today, I couldn’t have done it with out you!!

See you in six years!!!
BONG-BONG