I was suppose to serve on jury duty in late November, but I somehow spaced off the commitment (and felt like a total idiot when I realized I had done so one week after the fact). It turns out I got a second crack at it this week.
Although this wasn't the most convenient week of the year to be summoned, I served with pride. And, no doubt, I appreciated the entertainment provided by my fellow jurors: The man pounding his chest, absentmindedly rocking the couch and the butts which sat upon it. The guy who wreaked of weed, pronouncing his craving for gumbo. The throngs of adrenaline junkies, using cell phones and eating snacks in unauthorized areas (gutsy-hot). And, we shall not forget the guy who said to his chatty neighbor, "I spent all morning listening to my wife yammer, now I just want some peace and quiet, if you don't mind."
What I found decidedly less entertaining were the people moaning and groaning about (1) the mere existence of jury duty, (2) the lack of entertainment provided in the holding pen, and (3) things they would have known weren't true had they either read their summons or listened to the announcements that began the day ("seriously, they're going to make us sit here like this all week?!" -- um, no, just for part of today).
I left jury duty feeling a bit glum because, once I again, I didn't make it beyond the holding pen. Nobody did. It was a slow day for Lady Justice and her crew in good ol' Pomona.
