Just like courtroom drama

They'd been tracking me since San Francisco, and now they've found me. The month I left San Fran for Oakland, I had a summons sent to my old address. They told me I was in BIG TROUBLE, but I had a voter registration and driver's license from Oakland to prove that I wasn't and was excused. For a penance they called me in twice to jury duty in Oakland - the first time I was released, the second time I had moved to Sebastopol in Sonoma, so I slipped through their grips yet again. Within a year of moving to west county Sonoma, I had moved again to Seattle, and now I've been here for four years. They got me and it is high time I took it stoically.

I got up early to be at the courthouse in Pioneer square by 8 a.m. The line was out the door. I couldn't stomach going in right away, so I walked around the block, where I was hustled no less than three times in 8 minutes - twice by the same guy. I took my last sip of coffee and queued up, readying myself for the supreme test of patience that comes with anything related to civic process. All were screened and directed down the hall to the juror processing room. The walls were magnificently illustrated with images of Jimi Hendrix, Curt Cobain, Ray Charles and... what the heck is Tom Hanks doing up there?!

After checking in, the juror room was packed, so we were sent to a courtroom on the 9th floor. That sucked, because the wifi was blocked in that room. There we sat. Hour after hour went by wihout the aid of youtube or flickr. I began to look about the room and take notice of people who resembled famous people. I saw Kenny Rogers and Kurt Vonnegut (RIP). That was fun for about twenty minutes. Pretty soon, everyone was led up to the courtroom and the pre-trial proceedings began. For two hours we tic-toc'ed the time away, squirming in our seats, getting sworn in and filling out more and more questionnaires. When the judge released us for lunch, 385 people crammed the hallways to escape the room. No one spoke of it, but we all felt like we were the ones being prosecuted. I don't think we trust in the system anymore.

After lunch, we were treated to another 3 and 1/2 hours of deliberation. Attorneys glaring at us as the overwhelming response of folks with dire needs to be excused were heard by the judge. In the meantime, we talked amongst ourselves. I met Beaumont (name changed) who I found out was convicted of a felony 34 eyars ago in the south. We both wondered how he was picked for this. I told him that if he actually were to serve jury duty, he should first bargain for a voter registration. Then there was the guy from Sebastopol! We talked story about the good ol' days in NorCal. Kenny Rogers and I talked about bagpipes and the cost of living in Japan. And then there was the guy who was sure that no one knew what they were talking about unless they'd been in the army.

When the judge let us go at 4 p.m. there was a coutroom-wide hallelujah and for about five minutes it felt like class was dismissed. We kicked open the doors to the stairs and ran screaming down down down and into the streets. I wasn't about to sit on the bus, so I began walking back up to Westlake, feeling like freedom was this thing I pined away at in lockup. Sweet freedom! It dawned on me as I strolled up third ave. that jury duty is kind of a great equalizer. Everyone from all walks of life came for the same purpose, all were inconvenienced, all considered sawing their leg off to get out of it, and after a while we realized that we were all in it together. I guess I'll just say my prayers and wait to see Kenny, Beaumont and the rest of the gang on Monday.