Rebel Rebel: Jury Duty, Part One

Within the few months after my first time voting in Astoria, I received a notice in the mail. It basically said that there was a good chance I would be chosen for jury duty soon. Nice of them to let me know, right? So then, a few weeks ago, I got a "telephone summons" that instructed me to start calling on July 3rd to see if I was required to report. And sure enough, an automated voice told me that the monkey wrench was officially being thrown into my life--today I had to report to my first day of jury duty.

When I found out, I immediately thought, "I wonder if there's a way I could legitimately get out of this." Of course, as soon as I started telling people I had to report, they all said the same thing: "Just act really crazy/racist and they'll let you off." Well, it's clearly worked for someone before, so I can't blame everyone for thinking that, but I'm sure at this point you REALLY have to outdo yourself to get off the hook. I mean, I'm sure they're aware that people will try anything and could totally lie about having Tourette's Syndrome/seeing unicorns/hating The Man/hating every race other than their own. Then again, if you're willing to go the distance and act your way out of jury duty, maybe they figure you really don't want to be there. And it might be too much of a risk to choose someone who's just screwing around. And there's always a chance you really aren't lying. Just last week I heard an old man with a cane loudly refer to someone's wife as "the dirty black one" and, after I gave him a sideways 'did you just say that' look, he muttered, "Nigger lover." Right in front of me, and clearly to offend me. I wanted to shove him down the subway stairs, but I chose not to react. That's what he wanted, after all, and I refused to give him the satisfaction. I believe in karma. He'll get his.

But I digress.

I would find this jury duty thing kind of interesting if it didn't mean that I had to skip work for what could be up to two weeks. It could not have come at a worse time--after having done a show in Jersey and having to go to the eye doctor and pay for medicine to rid myself of the Terminator eye (still not completely gone--thanks for nothing, Dr. Ettinger), things are quite lean. I've been working a lot to make up for money I lost/spent while in the show, and things will be better soon, but now I have to skip out on more shifts. Not pleased. And when my alarm went off this morning, at 6:30 AM, I thought, "Eff this." If they were going to make me do this, I was going to show up and be the most radical-looking, disinterested one in the room. I didn't plan on going in there and causing a ruckus, mind you, because everyone knows I'm a good girl at heart. But everyone also knows that if I'm not into something, I have no problem expressing my disgust. And I woke up in a very "I don't give a rat's ass" kind of mood.

So I kept my hair the way I wore it yesterday--messy half-Mohawk with two cornrows on the right side. Glasses, one guitar-pick earring, my Larso shirt (here it is: go to this site and support my co-worker, Delaney: http://www.etsy.com/view_listing.php?listing_id=12617002), red pleated knit skirt, black pleather leggings and gray zipper ballet flats. This is something I really would wear in everyday life, so it's not like it was that much of a stretch, but I knew full well I was supposed to wear something more appropriate for court. (Even though, you know, it wasn't my case.) Those of you who see me on a regular basis know that I like to change up my look daily. I could have just as easily shown up all business-professional and proper, complete with adorable secretary-esque accessories. But I didn't feel like it when I rolled out of bed after a scant amount of sleep. I also don't like the idea of someone taking up my time and telling me I "have" to do anything.

I made my way to Kew Gardens and immediately headed in the wrong direction upon exiting the subway. I turned around, made it to the courthouse, and got in the huge line to go through the metal detector. While we were waiting in line, I could tell people were looking at me--to which I responded with my "I fucking dare you" glare. It's something I've perfected from living in New York--you'd think people would be more progressive, since this IS the city, but you'd be surprised how many people have no problem staring at someone with spiky hair or an off-kilter outfit. You'd also be surprised by how intimidated they get if you stare right back at them. Granted, I often look as if I'm on my way to (or am coming from) dress rehearsal for a concert, but that's the way I want it. If there's anything I know how to do (besides sing), it's dress uniquely. It's all about your attitude--have the right one and you can pull off whatever you want.

We were required to take out our jury summons, our keys, and our cell phones and put them in plastic buckets, put our bags through the x-ray machines, and walk through the metal detector: a la airport security. We all went into this huge room where there were TVs overhead, computers, vending machines and many, many chairs divided into two large sections. One of the court...officials (that may be the wrong term) was using a microphone to announce that we should all fill in the seats closest to the front desk (which required some of us, including me, to move--this arbitrary moving around seemed pointless, and happened to me three times over the course of two hours). Long story short, we all filled in the questions on the back of the summons, handed them in, and waited around. All along I kept thinking, "Sheep...sheep, sheep, sheep." It all had a vaguely creepy feel to it--each of us having a number, the "selection" process, people in uniform instructing us to move around the room en masse. Gross.

When there's a huge group of people who are all supposed to be going through the same motions, inevitably a few certain people will prove themselves to be completely idiotic and/or terrible at listening. From working with the public, I knew this going in. Sure enough, this was proven at several moments throughout the day; the biggest example being the restriction of cell phone usage. I will point out that I, like many people, soundly ignored the constant warnings to cease all phone usage and checked my phone a few times during the wait. I, however, had the good sense to A) make absolutely sure my phone was on SILENT and B) only use it in tiny increments of time while hiding it in my bag, and then immediately turn it back off. But there are some people who were born with a sense of entitlement and/or lack of common sense who didn't bother to turn off their phones--just let them go ahead and chirp away like no one had warned them. One woman behind me even had a short conversation on hers, despite all threats of confiscation.

Then there was the "separate your juror ID card and turn in your summons" step. Sounds easy enough, but with the aforementioned preponderance of idiots in the room, things were bound to go wrong somehow. There was much glancing around, handing in the wrong piece of the summons, not actually HAVING the necessary piece of the summons, whispering "do we keep this part" to neighboring prospective jurors, etc. etc. etc. If you had questions, concerns, or trouble with English, you weren't supposed to hand in your summons. Then, row by row, the people who had concerns were called up to plead their case to the officials. I stayed seated because I couldn't think of a good enough reason to leave (besides "I'm broke as a joke"), but among the 250+ people in the room, many of them got dismissed. I don't know how they did it, but they did. It was a long, boring process.

People were randomly called into a first group to go across the street and get started on the actual selection process. Phones sporadically continued to ring. People continued to ignore the rules and get up to ask questions even though it wasn't their turn. Non-natives continued to be confused. Officials asked, "Can anyone translate Korean/Mandarin" (and maybe another language too--I don't remember). A second random group of people was called to go across the street, and still I sat there. We watched Rachael Ray (ew) with special guest Paula Deen (YAY!) on the TVs, which were turned on and off accordingly so as not to distract us when something important was being announced. Those of us who were left were instructed to move to the left side of the room. Then, one by one, we were each called back and told to sit...where we just were, only in tighter formation in the front. Pointless.

And then we were told that our particular case had been held over until tomorrow and we were free to leave. It was 11 AM.

LAME.

I mean, it was nice not to have to stay until 5, and everyone acted really excited and relieved. But really, it was just delaying the inevitable. We have to go back tomorrow at 9 AM. At least I have tomorrow off already, so I won't be losing any money. I'm hoping that whatever this case is, it'll be quick.

As we filed outside, I overheard one girl sigh contentedly, "I love America." I laughed out loud. I still don't know whether or not she was being sarcastic.

I'm sure I won't be at liberty to discuss the case until after it's over, but I'll be sure to continue to pass judgement on all of my fellow jurors and report on that. I found out today that although you are not, under any circumstances, supposed to be using your phone in the room, you CAN use your laptop. And there IS Wi-Fi.

Round two, coming up. Stay tuned.