I arrived at the courthouse at 2 pm and got called up to the jury box around 3:30 today. "Juror number 661, please take seat number 14." Ack! My heart started pounding and my face flushed and I'm pretty sure I looked like a deer in headlights as I sat down and tried to find my place in the Sacha Cohen profile I had been reading. No use. The judge turned the "hush" on, the white static noise that lets the attorneys discuss things privately. I sat there for somewhere between 1 and 10 minutes, reminding myself that it really would be okay to serve as a juror, before the hush shut off with a click. Everyone pricked up their ears, waiting for the clerk to issue the next sentence. "Number 661, please take a seat in the rows behind you." I tried not to smile, but jeez I was glad to step down. On my way home, I felt lucky but also privileged. And free.
It was a beautiful ride home - mellow 5 pm sun, changing trees, wood smoke.
There's a good chance I'll forget all about this in a few days: the dread of potential jury duty, the sense of privilege and freedom, the wood smoke... I mean, that's one of the main reasons I blog - to help me remember. But here's hoping some of this experience sticks in my subconcious anyways and I learn from it. I hope it sticks around like the spicy Indian food you had for lunch that comes back with a burp when you're least expecting it. But less gross.