the jury room

*Mo Note: I'm writing this on the Surface on my lap, please excuse all typos, and severe lack of grammar.

From the time I registered to vote, three weeks before the 2004 election, I've been excited about serving on a jury. Think about it, you get to be part of the U.S. Justice system, a system so few people in the world get to experience.

They can be stoned, executed, and disfigured, but they don't get a trial.

The summons came in last year and my group was not called. Meaning no jury duty for me.

The summons came again with the date July 17 stamped on it. A week before my parents are to arrive. A week before the Portland Beer Festival. The timing was not great, but it's part of the responsibility of being a voter.

The crappy part.

And this is where my attitude changed. I became a frustrated member of a potential jury.

I think the system needs to change so people are excited about being on a jury. We should be acting like we're going to Disney, and not to the dentist.

So here I sit, in a room of 210 people waiting to serve justice. 150 of us are waiting to be called for jury selection in one case, everyone else is waiting to see where they will be placed.

There are a lot of grumpy people here.

Reginald Rose's "12 Angry Men" is being rivaled by 210 tired, whiny, grumpy, stressed, people. The title of my next book.

It is not an exciting room, a dentist's waiting room would be preferable. Yeah, and that's me saying that.

And so I sit, with a tight knot in my stomach waiting to hear if I will be stuck in a courtroom while my parents are off gallivanting.

It's not unlike waiting for a train, or plane. Although, those are more fun.

For one, you can people watch at an airport or train station, and  from experience the train station is way more fun.

Especially Newark.

The homeless are allowed to hang out in the large waiting room. Growing up in the Detroit's suburbs I saw my share of homeless whenever we went downtown for dinner, baseball games, the theatre, etc.

Basically ignore them.

My friend used to hand out stuff to Seattle's homeless, like food, soap, socks, etc. so she didn't follow the rule I do.

call me a horrible person.

Except, in Newark, you can't ignore them.

Watching the large group of homeless sleep, eat, talk, and interact with each other was kind of fun. One they took really god care of each other. Everyone shared food, coats, stories, everything.

This was a real world lesson on it can always be worse.

I could be the defendant on trial, and not the jury.

For the next four weeks I would have my life in hands of people who would rather be anywhere but in the jury box. I'm telling you, the dentist waiting room is a popular preferred destination here. For everyone.

"You can't trust anyone," is what one of the prostitutes in the Newark Train Station yelled. "You gotta take care of yourself. People are always looking to screw you over."

Now, if I am chosen for the jury I'm going to be bummed I can't spend all my time with my parents, who I only get to see about two times a year, but I'm not going to screw the person over.

So we'll see what happens.