Corner Booth

Ugh. I began my first (and hopefully last) tour of jury duty today. Let me tell you it blows. Basically you get to go down to the courthouse and sit in a room with roughly 100 strangers and...wait. That's all we did all day, just wait. Like a bunch of people at an airport awaiting the arrival of a plane for hours on end (complete with the insanely uncomfortable airport seats lining the walls far too close to each other). There are, however, several dynamics to jury duty which I feel obligated to pass on in case any of you get summoned anytime soon:

First off, there are two types of jurors. There are those who have jobs (read: lives) on whom jury duty is, at the very least, a massive inconvenience. We sit and read our newspaper or novel, attempting to avoid eye contact with the other poor saps that were too stupid to get out of this painful experience but are apparently intelligent enough to decide the fate of our imprisoned peers (side note: I did get out of jury duty once before because I was going "out of town on a business trip" a.k.a. Sully's Bachelor Party in Chicago) We fear the moment when we hear our name called to interview for a jury, knowing that being chosen is likened to a punishment for a crime uncommitted. Then there are the retired old men who live for this shit. Beware of these dudes. These guys live lives cluttered with history novels and grandchildren willing to rip their own ears off before hearing another story about granpa's stint as a cook on the USS Whogivesashit. I overheard a group of them complaining about how they had been interviewed for X amount of juries and had yet to be chosen. Maybe that's because you're senile enough to want to be here? These are the guys who are in their second and final week of duty (that's right, this imposition continues for two weeks) so they feel the need to explain procedure (unsolicited) to all of us that were there for our first day...shoot me.

Secondly, we had to go through an orientation, which was painful enough, but then at the end they have the audacity to ask us if we would like to donate the $19/day that we receive for our time back to them. Uhhh...'scuse me? Let's recap...I work a job in which I get paid hourly, by being here I'm losing money. Secondly, I thought I paid you guys in taxes...yeah my name's Brandon, I can wait while you look it up...yeah, right there, that's me...ok so why do you need more money from me?...Seriously?...did you seriously just say 'to put ferns up in the juror's lounge?'...well what's wrong with the ones you've already got?...they're getting old?...you've got a point, it is kind of drab in here...let me get my check book, I want to make an extra donation for plastic flower centerpieces for your little round tables. Fuckers.

Finally, wouldn't you know it, my first day I get chosen to interview for a jury. I felt ill (although it was nice to walk into a courtroom and not have the judge ask me, "Mr. Bowen, how do you plead?"...nice change of pace). This particular case is kind of high-profile in Cincinnati and we were advised that we would be on the jury for at least two weeks (vomit enters mouth). The prosecutor proceeded to interview each of us followed by the defendant (representing himself). During the prosecutions interview, I was asked my occupation. Upon hearing the words "Psych Nurse" leave my mouth the defendant immediately began writing notes next to my name....I was the second juror dismissed from the case. A choir of angels exalted and the court room ceiling opened to reveal a holy light as I walked out of that damn place...all the Focker jokes were worth it for that single moment.

Anyway, I've got two more weeks of this crap and I think it's safe to say that I don't have the most positive attitude towards it. I know, I know, it's my civic duty blah blah blah, that doesn't mean I have to like it. I'll keep you guys posted on how this episode of my life ends up...should be interesting if nothing else.
Much Love,
Bo