Jury Duty: Thoughts on a week

Think about giving something to Haiti....might be a good idea. Our wonderful grocery store has this empty water jug wherein we can place our donations. You can also do that texting thing, but I heard that the credit card companies have been keeping a percentage of that for themselves. I wouldn't put it past them.

Now that that's out of the way (whew!) I can talk about mySELF.

I reported to Civil Court yesterday even though I began calling in as a telephone standby juror last Friday. I didn't know what that meant at the time, but I thought it was akin to something like "alternate" or "not likely to show up".

Fortunately, I was sent to Queens -- which is convenient because I live there. Just hop the R/V to the E/F and skip and jump to Civil Court.

Going through security, I raced to finish at least some of my water so I wouldn't have to feel so badly about tossing it -- only to find that if we're jurors, we can ignore the signs that say "No Food Or Drinks". I know!! Who knew...I made an easy trip to the spacious waiting room, found a comfy seat next to a window and pulled out my phone. My phone that now has Internet! (Thanks, sweetie).

You see, I need Internet on my phone not only for my Facebook addiction, but also because I lose work if I am not constantly checking my email. This is why I'm always "liking" your status on Facebook. No, I don't feel good about it. But, it's what I do in between each job submission. There I am, every two minutes, primed and ready to submit my body to depict corpses and pedestrians on TV. Extra work is one of my day jobs. And I don't care admitting it!

Because I'm in the union and there's financial crises, most of the principle work (on this site) goes to non-union folks. And when I say "most" I mean to say: There is one union job to every 100 non-union jobs.

There's a police officer in the room who practically has his feet up on the desk and his Queens accent is so entirely thick I'm assuming he's putting it on to sound legit. (Forgive me as I go in and out of present tense here). He tells us we're "the most depressed-looking group of jurors" he's "EVER seen".

"The vending machine is also privately-owned so if you want your party mix don't squawk at me".

They played this movie about how important it is to be a juror, but the volume was so low and it was continually interrupted with speeches that I never had the pleasure to watch it. Which is too bad, because it was constantly referenced to me throughout the day by persons of authority and I'd have to just blink until the persons of authority latched onto another topic.

Then "Jurassic Park" comes on. Bleating lambs and child abuse. Not a good sign.

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After lunch, (I've now been here six hours but I'm soooooo used to waiting like this it seems like nuttin'), the police officer is continuing to call up names for jury selection. "Chin Lee!" No answer. "Chin Lee! Chin Lee!". He takes a break, comes back to the name a few minutes later.

Finally, one astute New Yorker with a beautiful accent (a contractor, I find out) points to a gentleman fast asleep in the fourth row back. "Hey maybe THAT'S him!" Everyone perks up. "Yeah! Wake him up!" Mr. Contractor gives him an elbow and the gentleman immediately recovers, claiming the name as his own, all which inspires an applause of unity from us unused jurors in the room.

Boy, I reeeeeally need to stop pretending to sound like a writer and get this show on the road. Writing is so damn exhausting. It takes a paragraph to describe a second.

A similar event happens about an hour later (the movie now playing is "Father of the Bride II") when the popo calls out the name of a famous pop star. (I consider him "pop", at any rate). I won't tell you who it is but he once dated an actress whose name rhymes with Zennifer Zanderson. So, the cop's calling and calling the name, every one's excited, no one's answering. Finally, some unimpressive "dude" crawls out from the back of the room where the wild things are (and couches) and makes his way to the door. He is younger than I am, but has fully adopted the grunge look of 1993 which is said to be in fashion again.

Poor guy.

Then, my name is called.

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So, after an hour of jury selection, we're sent back home and told to return at 10:30 am. Yes! I can sleep past 7:30....I can sleep to practically 9! (Which I will).

I'm losing money for being here but I'm fully resigned to't. I've come to peace with the fact that I may be selected to be on the jury; in which case, I will return next week for two or three days. But, this means I don't have to serve again for another six years, right? And since I am sort of in a position right now to do something like this....well, I kind of want to be on the jury and learn something about HOW LAW WORKS.

Today begins with them sending three people away and keeping three people for the jury. They bring up three newbies to question and so-on-and-so-forth. Needless to say, by the time they get to me (I was second-to-last), they are being less-thorough.

Three funny things happened today:

1) Famous singer namesake is called up to be questioned. When asked "So, you grew up in *City?" The guys says (insert teenagey attitude here): "Noooo?!"

When asked if he had injured himself as a kid, he asks for the question to be repeated, then recounts the time he was playing football and a strange thing happened to his right hand "cuz it got really cold? And - like - my hand just started to form these deep cracks. It was really dry. And, I don't know, I mean, it may happen this year, too. I mean, who knows. I may have a really chapped hand in the cold". The girl next to me is not holding back her giggles. She's gleeful about it. Finally, when asked if he could be objective about this case, he says "no, I really think * is at fault, that's just the way it is". Well-played. The lawyers meet outside, and surprise! Mr (they say his name again), you're sent downstairs.

2) When commenting on Mr * and his youth (his "infancy"), blue-collar man with the beautiful dialect (who is also in my group) goes off on how he himself is 62 and death is right around the corner. He looks at the plaintiff's attorney (who looks like a pasty ball of something you shouldn't eat) and says "Hey man, you know what it's like, you're in your 60s, I mean, you know."

Lawyer:
"Well, I'm not quite there"

Blue-Collar:
"Good GOD!"

Girl next to me:
"hehehehehehe!"

Me:
(disguising a smirk)

Lawyer:
"But there is a Popeye's Chicken around the corner."

And I still have no idea why he said that.

3) Hardly worthy of third place, a large beast of a man rises during interviews and leaves, saying "I need to use the bathroom". The attorneys look flummoxed, and the pasty one turns to his much more vigorous opponent and says "Should we?"

Vigorous one:
"Well, technically, we have to".

So, we waited 20 minutes for this guy to finish his business.

When he came back in, he wore a goofy smile and said "Sor-ry".

So, that's it. Oh! I was picked to be on the jury. So, Tuesday I report back at 11 am and I'll get this thing done. New experience.

If I look at my to-do list from last week, I did some of it. I interviewed at the posh sporting goods store, but they did not call me back and I saw them repost the position on Craigslist the next day. This wounded my self-esteem (that I am a yoga instructor and running enthusiast, with an MFA and held a managerial position at a financial printing firm, and I couldn't get a call-back for this job -- one that I sadly [because I have to say that, right? Even if I don't think it is?] kinda wanted). So, being picked as a juror redeemed this experience somewhat. Though I am not what YOU want based on your first-impressions, and am what YOU want based on first impressions.

Now, I feel all cozy and glad.

I worked, I hit an audition, went on a commercial go-see, saw a new hematologist (named Dr. Joe Poe Yoe: No joke!) on 110th and Amsterdam, saw a new Vascular Surgeon at St. Luke's and the ultra sound showed I HAVE NO MORE UEDVT! Though, I must be continually monitored because maybe I have hyper-coagulative blood.

The Russian gal who did my ultra sound: "You have clut (clot)?"

"I might"

"It's birth control pill."

"But, even in the arm? I was told it's usually in the leg."

"No, can happen anywhere" (you can pretend she said "No, don't worry about the cat, he does that from time-to-time" while shrugging her shoulders. Same effect). "I never go on birth control after working here. I see a girl - young girl - 21 - with one leg twice the size as other".

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So.....what else did I do.....

This weekend I'm taking a day-trip to New Jersey with K. (he joined Zip Car), and I am assisting for the first time at Sonic Yoga. Plus a little short film audition. I have a bridal dress appointment on Monday and then something neat afterwards (I don't want to say what just yet). Jury duty. Try to write something for Project:Theatre! and meet on Tuesday (OUR BAR. This is a really cool event. Please contact me if you'd like to come in Feb). Continue to update industry folks. Drop off headshots/resumes at agent's. Pick a pastor or someone similar for the wedding. Add to the registry. Work a new Shakespearean monologue for Feb 8th. Try to memorize Ayckbourn piece but I don't know if I'll get it primed for the audition. Read "The Passage" for March 6th. And RUN. Run more! Yoga!

I got new running shoes. They're an investment. Hopefully my achilles/calf won't be so bugged now.

The Irish man at the bodega across the street with hair in his ears the length of asparagus tips is coughing up a lung and it's unsettling. This is my cue to go to bed.

But, never fear. I'm a fast typist. It didn't take me as long to write this as you might imagine.