On Jury Duty

Yesterday I completed my civic duty as Juror #34. These are some of my thoughts as I daydreamed, sighed, seat-shifted and wondered my way in the cavernous labyrinth of City Hall:

• At around hour five, I looked warily at my phone and found myself moan-humming my latest mashup: "While My Dying Phone Gently Weeps." Jesus be a power outlet!
• Why come the all-day chairs are Hester Prynne Puritanical (as opposed to mid-century modern), but the downstairs, holding pen chairs are all a-plush and Fat Joe "Lean Back" ready?
• Will the ghost of Johnnie Cochran please rise and help these lawfolk help themselves? Juror selection shouldn't feel like a DMV hazing party. I'm actually innocent. No seriously. I know everyone says that here, but for real ...
• Jesus also be a Michael Joseph Jackson mask, cup of Emergen-C and a "Bless you!" For the last love of God, people: CUP AND COUGH.
• City Hall seems like a fine enough place to find a beau until you realize no one's allowed to speak to you while you're wearing that bright behind yellow and blue sticker ... which leads me back to Hester Prynne and wearing socially marginalizing accessories on my chest.
• You know it's bad when you're worried about missing one of your not-so-favorite work meetings more'n you're worried about the plaintiff's case.
• Yo, Philly. Why y'all only paying me $9/day? Does my dearest Barack know about this form of minimum wage terror, too? And how does this all day service not include some blessid parking validation?! [Sidebar: yes I know I could've, should've taken the train but that would've required me to wake up 45 minutes earlier than I already did. And you know that, in and of itself, coupled with the fact that I actually departed mine house before EIGHT EH EM is nothing short of the miracle of the week.
• The judge has superpowers Doppler don't eem know about. How do I know this? Because he said he'd have us out before the snow storm hit and it was nigh 2:30 and the flurries had turned to fairy dust. And still I sat. #34 out of 50 and these people wants to do one-on-one interviews with errybody. There aren't enough side-eyes in the world right now.
• This lovely grandlady next to me started from the bottom, now we heah:

• Did I mention the ass-numbing qualities of these Ben Franklin-era chairs? Why must my behind be placed on trial? If I get some back prollems as a result of this, well, let's just say litigiousness is contagious. Much like all these germs folk hackin' all into my airspace.
• So many potential jurors, so many hair choices to ponder. I've been meaning to ask: when you decided to shave the one side of your head, or both, did you ever think about what you would do come grow out time? Like, do you press on and let the edges play catch up? Or do you shave the whole slate clean? Or do you just commit to living your life between two worlds--the strands and the stranded? Personally I choose my hairstyles with an exit strategy in mind because the last thing I ever want is to be mired in the middle east of my scalp's kitchen. Treacherous, foreign and unknown.
• One good thing I can say about jury duty though? I been writing up a storm, jottin' down all kinds of stuff. The entire 7-hour-waiting-period-of-a-day provides an excellent space and freedom to write! Let us all give thanks (use the comments section if you feel so inclined, won't you dear?).
• This reminds me of that one time I got ISS...
• Today would've been the perfect day to resurrect my crocheting hobby. I crocheted a Swiffer sleeve a couple of years back and let. me. tell. you. That mug beats all! Ain't a dust bunny that can roll far or wide enough to keep me from swiffin' it up cleant!
• I wonder what would happen if I just up and went downward facing dog up in this piece? I would do it but I'm wearing a dress. Damn.
• There has got to be a more efficient way to select a jury. But more importantly, why does nearly every government function make me ask that question?
• Things I learned today: I have completely lost my ability to whisper ... or maybe I just don't care anymore.
• I shouldn't have eaten Maggiano's for lunch. It was so delicious I couldn't resist, and I was so glad that I didn't, but the 2-3 pm coma is so real.
• 4:17pm: My butt hurts so badly.
• Yes, I am in here judging people by the books and magazines they're reading. Since the judge himself can't be bothered to reconvene this goings-on accordingly, someone needs to judge something, so you there--fella reading the Jon Krakauer book: 
• Yo. Why is there ALWAYS that one lady who does one or all of the following:
  • Watches Netflix/YouTube on her phone, earbuds in, laughing like she's in a packed comedy club.
  • Tells you everything about her life; the origins of her back pain; every previous jury adventure in the rawest, Coffee Twalkingest voice ever.
  • Have teeth that make you promise yourself to floss erryday until the end of time.
  • Inspires you to wonder exactly how many people are still using that wet gel scrunch-your-hair technique.
  • Makes you draw mental pictures of what her husband looks like. Mental pictures that make you certain he'd know exactly what you meant if you ever asked him if he's seen that part of O Brother, Where Art Thou? when they are-you-en-en-oh-eff-tee!

Have you been summoned yet? Don't worry. You just read this post and you don't even realize it yet, but because you've read this, you're now in the juror chain letter-like club and it's only a matter of time ...