After 44 years, I finally got called for jury duty. I actually got called in March but didn't receive the summons until after the date I was supposed to show up so they gave me a postponement until September.
And it all arrived right on time this time around. So Friday night, I called the number and, good news, I didn't have to go in. Then Monday night, I called the number and, good news, I didn't have to go in. On Tuesday night (insert minor chord here), they said I had to go in. Now honestly, I really wouldn't mind serving on an actual jury--it's just the thought of all that bureaucracy that makes me shiver.
I packed a bag (two knitting projects, two magazines, diet coke, water, a book and a sleeve of Ritz crackers) and hauled ass up to White Plains yesterday morning. I generally avoid White Plains at all costs because it's a bear to drive in. All the streets are one way and there are lots of buses and odd little traffic patterns. It's not that it scares me or confuses me--it just insults my sense of good municipal design.
But I made it through downtown to the parking garage at the library. Where I was immediately accosted by a woman in a party dress (cut down to there!) and six inch high stiletto heels. She was going to jury duty for the first time as well and didn't know what was going to happen and oh my God she was so nervous aboutit but she never gets out of the house except for work which she hates and they're mad that she's at jury duty and aren't these shoes great she got them on sale at Bloomingdales and her husband who is not really her husband but they've been together for seven years and they have a kid together and he's Albanian but she doesn't care what anyone says about Albanians because he treats her like a queen and does everything for her except marry her. Whew--all this before I even put the money in the meter.
And she didn't shut-the-f-up for the entire day. Holy crap.
So I worked on these.
They're Cookie A's Summer Socks (I think that's what they're called) in Knit Picks Stroll in Dusk. They're a fun knit and go really quickly and, honestly, you don't have to pay too much attention to the pattern so they're perfect when you're stuck with a woman with typewriter mouth.
As the day progressed, the shoes lost their charm for her when she got a big blister. She had a pair of flip flops with her (silver glitter naturally) but she didn't want to put them on because then she would look like (and I quote) a white-trash chooch. I don't know if that's how you spell chooch but I don't really need to know. I would like you to pause for a moment now and think about what I might possibly have had on my feet. Yes, they we were flip flops. Cute ones but flip flops none the less. So I looked like a white-trash chooch which I guess is kinda cool.
By the end of the day, I actually got sent to a court room, watched the first round of voir dire. Had to go back today. Got voir dired myself and then sent packing. It was a civil case and would probably have been interesting but I have an ethical problem with the law that the case was based on so I told the truth that I couldn't be fair and impartial. I also told the truth about knowing the judge's brother which she very funnily asked me if I would be able to not hold that against her.
Laughed my butt off at the guy in the eye patch who had been a private investigator in Alabama. They didn't pick him either.