I drifted into sleep among the coughing, snoring strangers, wishing I had a medical mask and ear plugs in the bottom of my Dooney. Civic duty my right buttock! This is someone's definition of hell, proper. A hot room filled with strangers. Fancy flat screens, turned off before and after the orientation (to hell) video. Everyone scrutinizing and staring. All uncomfortable. All wondering when (the hell) we will be set free. All unwilling jury members. My sleep was short-lived because no one can never really sleep here, just as I imagine, one could never really sleep in hell. Our natural tendency toward spectacle, would never allow it. Too afraid to miss a name being called or the opportunity to watch someone else meet his/her fate. I woke up like most who sleep in public places: wiping the side of my face to avoid the awkward situation of performing "the highest call of civic duty and responsibility" with dried saliva or sleep lines on one side of my face. No one seemed to notice; people continued to cough and snore like this was some sort of dream they could sleep off or escape by slipping into a coughing fit. I put in my eye drops like a pro; hell had dried them to desert level.
Once the refresh tears took effect, l noticed the room had filled up since my unintentional slumber and showed no sign of stopping. This meant trouble. I knew it wouldn't be long until I had an immediate neighbor. (I had chosen a seat on the end of the row to avoid having two.) My first neighbor left a seat between us, which left me with an ounce of solace; the second knew her and took the seat between us, and...he...started...talking.
Within the first five minutes, I learned he was a fan of Christmas and that day, December 13th, was his birthday. He was loud about it; everyone around him was trying to avoid his gaze. Too much time on my hands, no one to monitor me, too sleepy for a filter, and under the protection of court officers, I met his gaze and gave him what he wanted.
"Happy Birthday," I said with no enthusiasm (in true me-ness).
"Thank you," he said, with the "swag" of an O.G. from the 70's. He was old enough to have been one during those days.
I was glad he seemed to be overall unimpressed with me, even though I gave him birthday wish he was screaming for. No, it wasnt my civic duty; it was attempt for me to impress God enough to be released from the Juror's Lounge (and freak the stranger out enough to think me crazier than he). Good Karma up...dismissal down. Guess God was on the bench leaning on his right arm watching someone in the court room exercise justice or had dozed off during my birthday wish, because I was there ALL DAY.
When I left the courthouse for the day, I saw the talkative stranger again and wished him an unnecessary "Happy Birthday!" He pretended he didn't know me. I'll see you in hell again, in two years, I thought. It's my civic duty to make this exercise interesting.
