Unless the judge is wack and the jury is jive

Sean Price was on to something. On Tuesday, I had to wake up at what seemed to be the dawn of a new millenium because it was soo damn early int he morning. But anyways, I managed to slalom out of bed at 7-something in the morning and casually made my way to the Orange line and then downtown to the Suffolk County Courthouse at Pemberton Square. Let me tell you, this place is so tucked away that it isn't funny. It's actually not hard to find, but it's quite the elusive structure nonetheless.

So anyways, I get there by 9 to wait in the large jury pool staging area and cross my fingers hoping for a short visit. Yeah right. We end up sitting there for a little while until my panel gets called up to one of the 20 courts in session. We hear about the case that is going to trial and have to answer questions about any conflicts we may have. Now that I think about it, there were a few people who did seem to be just raising their hands for just about everything, inclusing this one older brother who clearly did not want to be anybody's juror. So anyways, they start impaneling cats individually and inch ever so close down the list to my name as people get excused left and right. So the first 14 jurors get situated and then guess what. Yup, two get removed by counsel. Back down the list. Ok, so we're at 14 again. Not so fast buddy. Back down the list again. Ok so they are finally all happy and squared away and the rest of us are grinning from ear to ear thinking we've made it and can see the light at the end of the tunnel. But of course, our delight was quickly shTTed on when told to report back to the jury pool room. I counted at least a half dozen nonverbal 'fuq yous' in a span of two seconds. Now at this point, I'm already way beyond hurting because naturally, my dumba$ decided to forgo sensibility and stayed up until 4am the night before. So I'm a bit blunted-eyed to start with, not to mention the slight headache that had my head thumping for the previous 24 hours.

Everything after that is bleary. If I had gotten robbed, I definitely would be of no use to a sketch artist. I can faintly recall about four specific moments where I literally felt my head bouncing back up. If you're not sure what I mean by bouncing, then you obviously were very serious and studious student. I, on the other hand, have been sleeping in class since the mid-ninties. Front row, window seat, last pew; it don't matter, B. When it's time to doze, I'm a goner. So basically, I remember hearing a collective shout of celebration and a bunch of bustling and I quickly realized it was time to roll out at about 1pm. Back to working world I go. But seriously, I understand the necessity of fair and impartial random people, but something's gotta give. I don't think I would have made a ery good juror. I was hurting like a mutha. Maybe we should rewrite the law books to make it a voluntary process. Just think; voter turnout would increase and mistrials woud decrease. Now wouldn't that be lovely?