Jury Duty.

Ah, yes. That most dreaded of pieces of mail. I have been summoned by the Eleventh Judicial Circuit and Harvey Ruvin, Clerk of Circuit and County Courts, to serve my country by waking up at an absurdly early hour during my summer vacation, walk to the Metro Rail station, take it all the way down to Civic Center, walk 2 blocks south, and 2 more blocks, and then one more block, to the Richard E. Gerstein Justice Building, where I will surely sit in a stuffy room with a bunch of other miserables, watching some god-awful movies, and starving because I hear there are little to no healthy vegetarian options in the area, withering away in my seat until someone calls out my name or juror number, wherein they will likely tell me that my services will not be needed and that I am free to stay and get my $15 at the end of the day, or go home early and wait for the next time my name is picked at random.

Jury Duty. Really... Really. Really? Alright, i'll admit my deep, dark secret. When I was about 10 years old, I decided that I wanted to be a juror when I grow up. In the recesses of my pre-adolescent mind, this seemed to be a fabulous job wherein I could exercise my good judgement and alter the destiny of whomever should come my way. That's right. I actually thought being a juror was a paid job. And while some might receive $15 at the end of a ridiculously long day of probably doing next-to-nothing, it's anything but a real job.

Now, don't get me wrong. If this were an important case... say, that asshole kid that was killing cats, I think I would like to be on the jury. However, chances are it's not his case. Chances are I won't care. And this scares me rather deeply, because I think of all the other people who are selected for jury duty. Random Janes and Joes who just don't give a fuck and don't want to be there, same as me. People with possibly little to no education, possibly disturbed individuals, who are supposed to exercise their judgement upon the lives of others. What kind of sick, twister individual created this system? Maybe it's a little.. uh... totalitarian of me? But I would much prefer a group of well-educated individuals who are provided with sufficient food and payment and rest to decide my fate. I don't want Fulanita de Tal coming to the court room in her curlers asking if it's okay to bring in her chihuahua Pepito inside because he wants to be a juror too. Sad thing is, I'm sure some of the only people excited to be selected for jury duty are people with way too much time on their hands. And then you gotta wonder why that is...

No, sir. I would much rather stay home and blog and get back to doing some yoga and maybe do some writing, exercise, cleaning, Sailor Moon watching, etc. But instead, in about... oh... 8 hours, i'll be waking up (probably before the goddamn sun is even out), trying to find a non-tshirt (apparently you can't wear those?), and walking my very sleepy ass over to the train for the dawn ride to the ghetto. Or now that I see the weather report, I might just take my car instead.... Stupid Miami weather.

And now I leave you with Larry David's way of getting out of jury duty, as well as the episode of All In The Family wherein Edith gets picked for jury duty: