Jury Duty, Part IV: The Sentinel Ascendant

Well, here's a twist in the tale: I've spent a considerable amount of my emotional and intellectual energy during my drafting into juror-ism lamenting and bitching about the unsatisfying, emasculating indignity of being an alternate jury member that I never really considered how I would feel if at some point during the process that stopped being the case.

I had had assurances from all those who might know that the case had but days to go. Two days this week ahead of the holiday,* then a couple of days next week, then deliberations, which I would have no part in but would be required to hang out for anyway, then, finally, fin. I'd be free to try to figure out how to go back to my regular job, miss the early World Cup broadcasts and be busy for eight hours in a day.

But then Tuesday I show up at 10 am (the 10 am starts are hard to complain about) and my notebook is not on my juror chair. Is the trial over? Have I been specifically dismissed? Has someone finally noticed the Olympic-level eye-rolling during some of the testimony? Or have they simply started reading my notes in the notebook and realized it's one part trial stuff to about 40 parts a script outline for my Smokey and the Bandit IV: The Snowman Murders? It seems late to attempt a third sequel, but in my opinion we've had to wait this long to do justice to the motion-capture CGI presence of co-star Scooby-Doo.

No, it turned out that I had to move my seat because ONE OF THE REGULAR JURORS WAS GONE! Did I feel bad at first because I'd facetiously wished non-crippling and totally recoverable inconvenience on my fellow jury-box-denizens? Kind of, but that sort of guilt melts away when you remind yourself you don't actually believe in magic.

And the most predictable twist in the twist in the tale: now that I've been promoted to full voting member of the jury, I've done almost nothing since that time but bitch about THAT new set of circumstances. I mean really, with like two days to go? Now I have to talk to these people and figure out what their names are and think about the merits of the trial in a way that isn't either perfunctory, abstract or some combination of both? Just one more reason not to trust your government. They tell you one thing for an entire month and then bang, out of nowhere, it's all suddenly MY responsibility. Well, 1/12th of it is my responsibility, but you know what I mean. I've been done in by The Man, man.

OK, fine then, I'm a full juror. A kind of weird step-juror added when the rest of the jury had already grown up together, trying to fit in and having them try out the word "juror" with me even though I know they don't mean it the same way as they mean it when they say it to the ones who were full jurors from the beginning. I'll keep it to myself, I'll play my part, head down, go along, get along, and then maybe one day I'll let it all out the way any step-sibling would, during a sloppy drunken speech shouted into a microphone at one of their kids' weddings they didn't want to invite me to in the first place.

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*Happy Eleventh Veterans Day of the Year, everyone. Because all holidays are now Veterans Days, according to my facebook feed.