I had a notice before Christmas that I had jury duty today.  Yuck - I mean, nobody likes jury duty except my husband, and he’s only been once, and actually served on a jury!  I on the other hand have been 2 or 3 times, and have never actually even been called up to be questioned.  I called last night to double-check that I needed to go, and found out that I did.  I whined about it, and emailed my boss to let her know I wouldn’t be there.  Oh - and I made a phone call to double-check that knitting needles really weren’t allowed (it actually said so on the summons, but it never hurts to ask, right?).  According to the summons, I couldn’t bring knitting needles or knives into the courthouse.  Nothing about guns, grenades, or nunchucks, but knitting needles - watch out!  The clerk was kind enough to actually double-check with someone, and informed me that I could bring a plastic crochet hook, but no knitting needles.  I may actually have said at that point, “That sucks.”  I know I said it several times thereafter.  Nothing is more dangerous than a knitter with time to kill who is not allowed to knit.

I set off unhappily for Downtown this morning - not my favorite place to go by any means, especially not at rush hour.  It’s a maze of one-way streets and construction, and I didn’t know where I was going, as this was my first time in this county.  They provided a completely unhelpful map showing only the very center of Downtown, but since Mark works down there he was able to provide better directions.  The closest free parking ramp was just across the street, but there was not a close or a handicapped spot to be found, so I ended up at the very back of the garage.  I walked across the street, and there was a line of well over 100 people waiting to get in (it wasn’t quite 8:00 yet).  All of those people had to go through a security line similar to one in an airport, with only one scanner and two people working.  I saw people lose knives and scissors (what non-needleworker carries large scissors in their purse?), and was grateful that I had called.  I had brought 2 books and a puzzle book, and hoped the time would go fast.  Once we were inside, it was another maze and an elevator ride to the 4th floor maze.

I finally found my way into the jury room with close to 100 other people.  We were soon to learn that this was the first court session since before Christmas.  We didn’t think it was a big deal, and watched the (very old) video, and got our instructions, then settled in to wait.  About 10:30 the clerk read off 20 names, including mine, and asked if anyone needed an elevator.  I was the only one to say yes, and apparently I look too young (or not handicapped enough) to need one - her answer was, “It’s only 2 flights of stairs.”  My response - “And I still need an elevator!”  She decided I was serious, and showed me back out the door, and I went back through the maze, and waited a good long time for the elevator.  When I got up one floor, she was looking out the door for me, and all the other jurors were standing in the hallway.  We waited about 10 minutes, and she was called into the courtroom.  She came back out and said, “Let’s go back downstairs.”  We went back down and found our seats again.  I read for a good while, and about an hour later she came back out and called 14 of the original 20 people - this time she didn’t read my name (whether through random chance or pity I’ll never know!).  The others went up, and in a little while more were called to go to another courtroom.  Then one of the first batch came back, and we found out that that bunch was being questioned for the grand jury.  This poor woman had been chosen, and will need to serve a day or two every two weeks for the next year!

At this point I sank into abject terror - I would not, could not (in the dark, on a train, in a box, with a fox) do this for a year.  We found out that the only question they were asking was whether you had a medical condition that would preclude you from serving.  Technically mine wouldn’t, though it would make it a major pain in the wazoo!  I did spend probably half an hour figuring out how I could explain - I’m just lucky enough to have one of those diseases that virtually no one has ever heard of, though possibly 10% of 2% of the US population could have it - I think that means 1 in 500, but my nerves are too shot to do math.  Not to mention that the driving downtown, parking, walking, standing - UGH!  I felt a panic attack setting in before we left for lunch.  It didn’t help that we had been told we would go at 12:30, and at 12:24 she told us she couldn’t let us go yet, then she got another phone call and finally let us go.  I got turned around coming out of the garage, and asked “which way to 4th Street?” of the lady in the parking garage.  The answer - right, then left, then right (she forgot another left), and I got to where I was supposed to meet Mark, though I passed it and couldn’t go back without circling, so I parallel parked. Not my strong suit, as unless you go Downtown, you never have to parallel park in this town, and with the traffic it was a little freaky.  By the time I got into the restaurant I was in meltdown mode, and Mark spent the remaining 15 minutes of his lunch hour talking me down (sorry Honey!) and telling me it would be okay.

I headed back and settled in for the afternoon - they called several more batches of jurors, and at one point everyone in the room had been upstairs at least once (several trials going on), and she asked for a volunteer to go up for another one.  I scrunched down in my chair and tried to become invisible, and a kind lady volunteered (bless her!).  That left us with less than 20 in the room, and little by little the others trickled back.  About 3:45 we learned that all 9 seats for the grand jury had been filled, and we could breathe again, though if I’d been picked later for another jury, I would have at least had to go back tomorrow.  At 4:50 we were finally allowed to leave, just in time to hit the 5:00 traffic out of the deck and going home.

I’m home now, and filling up my soul with knitting and junk tv, and my stomach with junk food - I couldn’t cook after my strenuous day!  Tomorrow it’s back to work, and I’m truly relieved - I don’t have to go back for 2 years.  Maybe by then I’ll have come up with a good enough excuse to get out of it.

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