Self didn’t want to come and toyed with the idea of blowing off her jury summons.
”I don’t have a car,” she told hubby. “Surely that’s a valid excuse.”
“Don’t mess with the government,” hubby says.
“But it’s the truth: my car IS having engine problems.”
“You could get in big trouble,” hubby says. “Stop with the dramatics.”
Hubby is so wonderfully supportive, so sympathetic to self’s every need.
Yesterday, the day after our day-long slog to San Luis Obispo, he went sailing with a group from his office.
He asked for Dramamine. He tried on various sweaters and asked self for her opinion.
“Not the Ralph Lauren,” self opined. “You’re liable to ruin it, what with the sea spray.”
When he returned last night, he was very happy. Turned out he didn’t need the Dramamine, as an officemate had provided him with half a dozen ginger pills (called “Super Sailor”, self saw he had three of these left on his dresser).
After returning rental car to Enterprise bright and early this morning (before 8 AM), self asked an employee if she could be dropped off at Redwood City Court House.
“Do you mind waiting until the shuttle comes back?” young guy behind the counter asked. “It just went to pick up a customer.”
“I’m kinda in a hurry,” self said, with unusual forthrightness. “I could get in big trouble if I don’t report to the Redwood City Court House at 8:30 AM sharp. I don’t want to mess with the government.” (Thank you, hubby, for putting the words in self’s mouth)
So, young woman was asked to take out the Humvee and deliver self to her destination.
On the way there, self noticed that the woman seemed none too friendly. She had red hair, a purple blouse, and fabulous skin. Self cast a sidelong glance at her and asked, “Ever been on Jury Duty before?”
Then, the floodgates opened: woman suddenly turned chatty. In fact, she was so chatty that we missed the turn for Broadway and then had to wend through Sequoia Station, emerge on Jefferson, and then make various left turns. By which time self was completely dizzy.
“I’m sorry,” self said to the woman. “I won’t talk anymore.”
After enduring gruesome security check with snarling, bad-tempered cops, self found herself seated in vast basement room (cold, and the computers along the walls take five minutes to load a page) and noticed a line of people asking the lady in charge if they could be excused. So self, feeling particularly energetic this morning, decided to line up as well.
When self reached the front, she came out with: “Could I be excused? I have a toothache.”
Lady looked at self. “I’m sorry, no,” she said.
“And, I’m having gum surgery on Friday,” self continued.(Liar! self thinks. You base creature, you’ll be damned to eternal hell, etc. etc.)
”I’m sorry, no,” woman says. “If it gets really bad, I’ll have a word with the judge.”
Self wends her way back to her seat. This is hopeless, completely hopeless.
But, self suddenly remembers that if she were not here, she would be working at the Writing Center, going over student papers. While here, at least, she can read.
All is not lost!
Stay tuned, dear blog reader, stay tuned.
Kathleen said,
October 3, 2007 at 12:21 am
The thing I hated the most about jury duty was not having an option. I hated the feeling of being forced. Even if it is part of the way the justice system works, it seemed like an insurmountable burden. Of course, I could have brought a book, an iPod, to pass the time. In the end, I was not chosen.
anthropologist said,
October 3, 2007 at 12:54 am
Kathleen,
I happened to strike up a conversation with one of my fellow jurors, and she turned out to be the mother of none other than DJ Mel (Enriquez), who is credited for singlehandedly turning San Luis Obispo into a blazing party scene (while he was at college in Cal Poly). Of course, we two mothers ended up whipping out the photos of our sons and comparing. I told her that DJ Mel was extremely handsome. She looked at my son’s picture and nodded in silence.