Stories from Jury Duty
7:57 PM 7/8/2009Today was my fourth appearance at Jury Duty. That's three in DC and one in Maryland right after I moved into DC and hadn't made some of the necessary address changes yet. Same thing happened with an election. It wasn't as if I had to serve on a Jury in Montana or something.
I have not yet been picked for a jury. Today my streak continues. One time, it was such a slow day at the courthouse I got sent home in the afternoon without being called up once, but the general pattern is: get called for a panel, spend several hours on various roll calls in the hallway, sit in the courtroom trying to decide if anything about the case would make it hard for me to give an impartial judgment (Are you or any of your close acquantances police officers, lawyers, the victim or the perpetrator of a similar crime?). I have taken several college courses on probability theory, so as I looked around the courtroom, and the numerous, well ordered potential jurors, it was obvious that I wasn't going to be on that trial. The woman next to me whispered the same conclusion. I replied cautiously that it all hinged on how many the attorneys could strike from the jury box. I think I used to know. But, in the end, we were so far back in the 'batting rotation' that there would never be enough innings to... Huh. That's weird. I used a sports analogy.
I Inadvertently Bring A 'Weapon' To The Courthouse
Well, the thing I was dreading happened.
I dug around in the pockets of my bag before I left home to expell all the dangerous contraband: Batteries, Screwdriver, Matte Knife. I pulled out all the borderline threats I could imagine anyone making a fuss over: superfluous pens, a pair of needle-nose pliers. When I got close to Gallery Place, I took some photos of the Chinese arch, then I became very worried about the camera, which is, in fact, something they warn you about after it's too late. I'm not in a position to replace that camera, so I'd have to blow off the whole civic duty thing and beg them to let me reschedule.
At the courthouse door, I was nearly consumed by the mounting dread. So much for 'presumed innocent until proven guilty'... Witnesses really have been shot right there in the lobby by defendants who were unhappy with their verdict. I buttoned up my shirt and made my final approach. The mounting dread was relieved by the comical plight of an older woman with a bad accent who turned to me for help finding the way in... You see, all these scanners and x-ray machines are a retrofit of the original doorway - Two sets of doors spaced only to prevent excessive heat transfer.
I don't fly often, so I'm not skilled in the security dance. I cause a turbulence in the normal smooth flow, no matter what I do. My bag went into the x-ray machine, I plopped my change, wallet, & keys in a plastic tray, then suddenly the officer was talking to me. "You have to take that off." I didn't know what he was referring to. "It's a knife".
I didn't bring any knives. (I was careful to leave that penknife at home inside the pencil case where it usually stays.) The officer is pointing at my keys... My keys? "That's a knife". Only one thing is going to happen here. I am going upstairs to check in, and they are confiscating the miniature swiss-army knife on the ring with my mail box key. At first, I am so confused that I have to take a minute deciding whether the "knife" can be separated from the key. Anxiety over not being able to see my backpack was also distracting me.
That knife was a gift. It's no more dangerous than the plastic knives in the cafeteria. It's so short. I'm supposed to shiv someone in the courthouse with this novelty toy? I've never even used it: I would never think to reach for it in anger. What's the look on that face going to be like, when I pull that knife? There are cops all over the lobby in flak jackets to come an taser me if they can keep from doubling over in laughter. I've never even used it: That's all the proof I need that I won't miss it. But that doesn't change the fact that someone thought to give it to me. I begin my day of civic duty in bitter contempt. Later on a bunch of things will occur to me: They encourage you to arrive on public transportation (In which case, you can't leave your pistols in the glove box), and they ban a range of items without providing any kind of coin lockers at the entrance.
Standing in line on the third floor to check in, my mind moves on to the thought of the service-oriented government that we will never have... unless for some reason people get together and demand great things from their public servants... just imagine a city operating as a courtesy to its citizens, going out of the way to... Wow. What have they been polishing the floor with in here. I think I'm really losing it.
In fact, I am really losing it. Because the next thought in my head is: The MIND is the only REAL weapon.
and I just cannot hold the laughter in. I've got a book open, so I trust the people around me to assume I read a funny part of the book, and not that my sanity is disintegrating (actually, I am reading an excerpt of Tom Wolfe on Ken Kesey... hmmm). Something about being able to do as much damage with a plastic knife from the cafeteria, or the idea that police officers in the building are walking around fully armed... Intent is all that matters. How can they stop us at the door for a dangerous object, when our intentions are the real determinant of mayhem? I don't need a miniature folding knife to bring trouble.
Also, unlike a plane, I can't make any real threats with an improvised weapon: No matter who I threaten, the building is not going to crash. The police can safely beat the daylights out of me on the marble floor without harming the other passengers. Or did I go over this already?