Jury selection: beyond thunder dome

Compliments of my friend Casey. You have no idea how hilarious this is to me.

About two weeks ago I participated in a source of community pride: jury duty. I had received my little card in the mail and by God, I was gonna get picked this time! I was gonna be good enough. I had a nice blazer and everything. I woke up early and wore my most adult looking outfit, complete with said blazer. This was gonna be my day I just knew it. Who could say no to my blazer from Target? Shut up, don’t answer that. I looked good.

Two men enter, one man leave.

There was a swarm of people in there. Competition was going to be tight. Everyone was pairing off with a jury selection buddy, and I noticed that those around me weren’t trying to make friendly banter with me. Why in the shit not? I mean, I had rolled the sleeves of my blazer just like Don Johnson had taught me when I was a kid. Was I just too Miami Vice for these dirtbags? In an effort to not be left friendless like sixth grade science lab, I tried talking to those around me. The guy to my left must have been deaf because he kept his eyes straight ahead, and never turned towards any of the witty observations I was saying, and I was on point. I tried my luck with the lady to my right, and I found her to be slightly more receptive, but only slightly more so. I’m still not entirely sure if she was laughing at what I was saying, or the phone that she never looked up from the entire time we were “talking”.

Two men enter, one man leave.

When the attorneys came in everyone snapped to attention, mostly because I think they knew they had to put their phones away. I appreciate it when at least one attorney looks like Matlock, and the defense attorney had the decency to look like a chubby Matlock. The other one, let’s call him “Not Matlock” was doing most of the talking because, as we all know, Matlock has manners. When we were allowed to ask questions,  I realized people were asking stupid questions. I knew I had this in the bag. Victory would be mine. Who cares if they were throwing the match, the point is, I was going to be a jury winner! Now, if I could just make a jury buddy.

Two men enter, one man leave.

We finally broke for lunch, and ran as fast as I could to my car to get lunch. Fast forward ten minutes, and plenty of food on my nice shirt (none on dat Miami Vice blazer doh) and someone had snaked my parking spot. Hmmp. It’s going to be like that is it? Jury treachery abounds even in the parking lot, then does it?  I decided to try my luck in the parking lot designated for the jury people. I felt very special as I pulled into a parking spot, and was just about to turn my car off when a dude knocked on my window.  It took a moment to ascertain that I had not, in fact, peed my drawers. Once I was secure in that knowledge I rolled my window down. He politely told me I couldn’t park there. I gave him the most blank stare I could and responded with a very witty, “wut”? He smiled and said I wasn’t allowed to park there. Since we are a small town with finite amounts of parking I figured he thought I was a parking spot poacher. I smiled back and very courteously stated “Yes I can, I had a jury summons”. I was about to roll my window up, sure we were done talking when he stopped me. “No, we’re doing construction and you can’t park here.” I looked around the parking lot. It was a sea of cars. Apparently, they were doing construction on my parking spot because there was a car parked in all of the spots around me, but I was not allowed to park there. Either that, or he just didn’t like my blazer.

I sighed, and gestured that I believed it to be the stupidest thing I’d ever heard in my life, but I would move.He gave me a thumbs up and smiled. A gesture that I took to mean, “go to hell”. I circled around forever because, as previously stated, we don’t exactly have a ton of parking everywhere. But I found a parking spot eventually. I shook the food off of my shirt, wiped the sweat off of my face, and wobbled toward the courthouse. And I’ll be damned if I was going to be a Master Blaster. I was straight up Tina Turner in that piece.

It was fucking Thunder dome out there, but I got picked to on the jury, and I had some stuff to listen to.

Two men enter, one man leave.


3 thoughts on “Jury selection: beyond thunder dome

  1. Erin S. Burns June 17, 2015 / 12:01 am

    Too funny. I usually end up during next to the dead guy too. He doesn’t appreciate my signing.

    Liked by 1 person

    • wendyblack1 June 17, 2015 / 12:18 am

      LOL, he seemed to regain his ability to hear when a much younger woman sat next to him later on in the day. He had sexy young lady selective deafness. It’s an affliction!

      Liked by 1 person

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