Fishman here. Sorry again for the delay, but you must understand that none of the Zubaz writers were in the mood to write after Dubya was reelected. Seriously, have you read Bryan Byrne’s article? Yeah, it’s kind of like that in our heads right now. Hey, whatever. When insane right-wing ideology completely takes over the nation, the moderates who voted for Bush will feel pretty stupid (I’m looking at you, Friend). So let’s sit back and enjoy the plummet. Anyway, on the topic of government, I recently finished jury duty. It was quite an experience and I’d thought I share it with all of you.

I was feeling down after my girlfriend left for London, but I figured life couldn’t get much worse. I was wrong. The very next day, I received a summons for jury duty. I’ve never received jury duty before because I was in college, but let me tell you; it’s not a good feeling when you get that note in the mail. The summons is sent about a month in advance, so I had plenty of time to throw it in a drawer and continue with my pathetic life. The summons said I had to call the courthouse the day before the first day of jury duty (November 1). I was assigned number 0610. Amazingly, only jurors number 0001-0591 were called in the first day. I was free! Plus, since Tuesday was Election Day, I had two days off! Huzzah!

November 3 was a dark day. I was called in that day plus I heard on the radio that John Kerry was going to concede. My faith in America was severely shaken. This made it difficult to do my civic duty because I was seriously questioning the country. I drove out to a town called Mineola, which took about 45 minutes with morning rush hour traffic. When I entered the courthouse, I was amazed at the amount of people who had to ditch their jobs for this.

First, everyone has to sit in a giant room that was just like a high school auditorium. We had to sit there for an hour when finally some official put on a video. At first, I thought it was Lord of the Rings. They showed someone in a long white robe with an entire musical score in the background. I naturally assumed it was an elf or something. It turns out it was an introductory video to jury duty. It explained how criminals were tried and sentenced throughout time. And Ed Bradley hosted it! Jury duty suddenly wasn’t so bad. That thought was quickly dashed when he said, “You may think cases will be exciting like ‘Law & Order’ or ‘Perry Mason.’”

“Yeah!” I thought.

“In truth, jury duty is nothing like that.”

Ed Bradley, you killjoy.

“I’m Ed Bradley. Did you know that during the days of Hammurabi, suspects were tied up and thrown into a lake? If they floated, they were guilty. If they sank, they were pulled out and cleared of all charges. I knew about it. I’m Ed fucking Bradley.”

Anyway, after the video came the waiting. I was sitting in an auditorium with hundreds of strangers. The mood was terrible too. There was an aura of sadness due to the recent election. People were reading the newspapers and shaking their heads. Granted, Kerry didn’t concede yet, but we knew he lost. I passed the time by reading Howard Stern’s book “Private Parts,” which I have read three times before. Thankfully, it is a decently long book that would last me two days. At 11:30, my name was called along with about 20 others. They put us in a room, took attendance, and then marched us to a courtroom. By the way, jury duty consists of going to many different rooms. It’s all about sitting and waiting in rooms.

We all sat in the courtroom, where the clerk picked eight names out of a cylinder. Of course, I was the fourth name called. I sat in the jury box, which I have to say, is really pretty cool. We were explained that the case was a simple fender bender, which usually lasts a day. The two lawyers began to ask us questions. When the plaintiff’s lawyer got to me, he asked if I drove a car.

“Yes I do,” I responded. Cool, I answered a lawyer’s question! I was really excited. I may have sprung wood.

“Have you ever been in an accident?” The lawyer asked.

“No.”

“Good for you,” he smiled. The lawyer was an old man and seemed like a nice guy. He was impressed that I have never been in an accident because the three jurors he just asked had all been in accidents. “Have any members of your family been in a car accident?”

“No, we’re all good drivers.”

“What is your occupation?” Fuck. Now I had to tell everyone in the court that I was a bum.

“I’m a recent college graduate looking for work.” Way to spin, Fishman.

“What was your major?”

“Media Study with a minor in English.”

“Thank you.” The lawyer moved on. After he asked the other jurors, he struck one (not literally) because her daughter was killed in a car accident, so she would be biased. Then, the defendant’s lawyer came up and began asking questions. She was a middle-aged woman who seemed kind of tough. I imagined she took care of two kids while struggling to be respected by the male dominated firm she worked for. That would make a bad show. When she got to me, she asked me, “So, no one in your family has been in an accident?”

“If they have, I wasn’t born yet or I was too young to remember.”

“What about any of your friends?” I was being cross-examined! Forget wood, I was ready to cream my pants! It was so cool!

“Yes, I have a friend who was rear ended by a drunk driver.”

“Was he hurt?”

“He hurt his back and neck.”

“Would you be biased to the defendant in this case?”

“That depends. Was he drunk?”

“No, no,” she laughed. “All of the parties were sober.”

“Then no, I wouldn’t be biased.”

“Okay, thank you.” She moved on. After everyone was reviewed, one more juror was struck because a driver talking on a cell phone recently crashed into his van. The rest of us were accepted as jurors. We had the rest of the day off and we would be paid $40 for the day! I was thrilled. $40 a day! I should just be a professional juror.

After another hellish commute to Mineola the next morning, I waited for the case to begin. The thing was, nothing was happening. I sat in the auditorium longer than the previous day and I was really pissed. Even worse, more and more jurors were being picked as time went by. Only 15 people remained, so this encouraged a woman in her late 50’s – early 60’s to talk to me.

“Think they forgot about us?” She asked. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. What can I say? I’m unfriendly.

“Well, I was already selected so I’m just waiting for them to call my case.”

“Oh, you poor thing!”

“Yeah…I guess.” I looked back at my book.

“This is my second time doing jury duty.”

“…Really…” Dammit, the woman wanted to talk.

“The last time was like a million years ago. I was 29.” I gave a polite giggle. The giggle was meant to be like, “Heh, you kidder.” Instead, it came out like, “Heh, it’s true. You’re old and will die very, very soon.”

“The case had to deal with…” I stopped paying attention and stared into space. She finally shut up and I figured she was done talking, so I went back to my book. It was slightly awkward. Ever talk to a total stranger but the conversation just ends? It’s like a car that ran out of road. The two of you have nothing to do but stand there and pretend like the other person stopped existing. What was I going to say? “I don’t feel like talking or listening to you talk anymore. I’m still going to sit here, but I am ending our relationship. Thank you for understanding. Have a nice day.” But no, that didn’t happen. After a minute of silence, she began talking again. I held in my scream of frustration and listened to her drone on about her friend who never attends jury duty.

“Would the jurors on the Zubaz (changing the names to protect the innocent) case please come up here,” a clerk announced. Thank you, merciful Buddha. I walked up to the counter and the clerk muttered, “Take your lunch break. Come back at 2.” Two o’clock! It was noon! A two-hour lunch break? Where the hell could I go for two hours? I decided to drive to a Wendy’s that was 30 minutes away. I ate by myself like a sap. Next time you see a person eating all alone, just remember: he or she is probably on a lunch break from jury duty. When I got back, I still had 45 fucking minutes left. The woman was still there, so I slinked to a seat far away from her. I was utterly miserable.

When the clock struck three, the Zubaz case was finally called in. My fellow jurors and I marched to the courtroom, where an incredibly nice judge greeted us. He thanked us for being so patient, but a previous case ran longer than expected. We had to come back tomorrow. Basically, I just wasted the entire day sitting on my ass. Then again, I just made another $40! I was $80 richer.

Jury duty was becoming a hindrance. I’m an unemployed loser and still jury duty felt like an incredible pain in the ass. I had off until Monday. When I came back, I sat in the selected juror room, waiting for the case for a fucking hour. They finally brought us to an empty room where all 8 of us sat. Talk about awkward. 8 total strangers had to sit with each other in a small, bland room. The silence was horrible. I had nothing to do but stare at my hands. I didn’t want to talk to these people and we had to sit there for 30 minutes! I was dying.

We were finally called in and the bailiff asked us to line up in an order we were given yesterday. The thing was, no one knew what she was talking about, so we made up our own order. I think I was juror 4 the previous day, but I was now juror 3. No one noticed the entire jury was sitting in different seats, not even the judge. Anyway, the case began and immediately my nose started to run. I couldn’t believe it. I hate my fucking nasal passages; they’re always stuffed or leaking snot. Anyway, the case was simple: the defendant was at a red light on a two-lane street. The plaintiff was behind his car and wanted to make a right. Apparently, the light turned green and the defendant didn’t go. The plaintiff honked him six times and he still wouldn’t budge. The plaintiff noticed he was looking at notes and talking on a cell phone. So, the plaintiff went around the defendant’s car on the left (over the double yellow lines) and made a right. The defendant then went forward and hit the back of the plaintiff’s car. Got that?

The thing was the defendant claimed that he didn’t even have a cell phone in his car. The plaintiff just saw his hand by his face. He was only at the green light for mere seconds at most. Also, the defendant barely hit the plaintiff. He just took his foot off the brake and he moved 6 inches at 1 mph. Most of all is that the defendant claims he never heard a honk, let alone six of them. Plus, the plaintiff had her kid in the backseat.

The lawyers did a good job but the old lawyer was one boring dude. He decided to read the entire conversation he had with the defendant before the case. It was like 40 fucking pages and my nose was leaking like a faucet! I covered my mouth and nose with my hand like I was thinking. I wasn’t thinking – I was hiding the disgusting bubble of snot coming out of my nostril. It was a nightmare. Plus the old lawyer wouldn’t shut up! I was dying of boredom while my nose was running like mad! Jury duty sucked! It sucked! Finally, the judge gave us a two-hour lunch break. I ran to the bathroom and saw in the mirror that my entire right nostril was covered in clear snot. I am a fucking freak.

When I got back from lunch, they marched us back into the empty room. Thankfully by this time, all of the jurors were united in their boredom and hatred for the old lawyer who wouldn’t shut up. The guy had no case and was trying to say the defendant didn’t look to his left when he moved forward. It wasn’t that he didn’t look – the plaintiff went around him so fucking fast that before he knew it, he dinged her. You should see the pictures supplied by the defendant’s lawyer. The plaintiff had literally no damage to her car. The defendant’s bumper was totally torn off! I kept forgetting who was suing whom because the defendant’s car was the damaged one! We went back to court and the case dragged on. The only highlights were when a lawyer objected and when the judge said, “Overruled.” I was thinking, “Suck on that, lawyer.” I also stared at the wood finish in the jury box and thinking how one blob on the wood looked like Japan.

The judge needed to have some law talk with the lawyers for 30 minutes, so we were brought back to the empty room. We were in there for 50 fucking minutes. The jurors were more talkative now since we were all unified in our boredom and frustration of sitting in an empty room. The worst part was that we were not allowed to talk about the case until the judge told us to. Juror 5 was my favorite. The dude was really funny and reminded me of Sinbad (the comedian, not the sailor). We were walking to the room and he suddenly went, “How tall are you?”

“I don’t know,” I replied. “6 foot, 1 inch.”

“Shoulder to shoulder,” he said. We bumped shoulders to see. “No man, you have to be 6 foot, 2 inches at least.”

“Alright, cool. Nothing wrong with that.” Oh Sinbad, you joker.

“Men be actin’ like zombies at the mall. I also think Fishman is one tall dude.”

Juror 2 was the spitting image of Stan Lee. He was a nice old man that was pissed that he couldn’t cook for his wife because the case was taking so long. That made me angry too because the guy was so nice.

Juror 2 in happier times, before he came home and found his wife dead from starvation.

The forewoman was kind of a pain. She was studying to be a psychologist, so everything she said was psychological talk. Instead of no, she would go, “That’s illogical.” What is she, a fucking Vulcan?

We were furious about how long the lawyers and the judge were taking. The case was not complicated at all. We already had our verdict, I could tell. Finally, before I went nuts and began puking on my fellow jurors for fun, the bailiff escorted us back to court. By now, it was 4 o’clock. In one hour, the courthouse would close, so the judge decided to continue the case tomorrow. The other jurors groaned and bitched because some of them have kids and work. I was annoyed, but hey – counting that day and the next, I made $160. I could buy a Playstation 2!

The next day, the lawyers were doing their closing arguments. During the closing argument of the defendant’s lawyer, the plaintiff kept grunting and looking pissed each time she was accused of being at fault. After they were done, we were brought to the deliberation room. Only 6 of us were brought in since the other two jurors were alternate. We all agreed immediately of one thing: we were scared shitless of the plaintiff, who was a large, angry woman. Within only five minutes of talk, we decided that the defendant was not at fault. I asked about the honking claim but the forewoman said, “That’s illogical.” Whatever you say, Spock. We walked back, she read the verdict, and went back to the empty room to talk briefly with the judge. Everyone was talking about how scared we were to see the plaintiff’s reaction. No juror dared look.

We were finally released at noon. We ordered lunch a few hours before, but it wouldn’t come until 12:30. Most of the jurors went home, but Sinbad, juror 8, and I stayed because we would get free food! The state was paying for our lunch! It was quality food too, since they ordered from a local restaurant. Sinbad talked the bailiff into giving him two lunches. It’s true – white people love Sinbad and they can’t say no to him.

Now that I’m done with jury duty, I won’t be called to serve again until 2010. The shitty part is that my $160 won’t be coming for 8 weeks.

Questions? Comments? Illogical? E-mail Fishman347@yahoo.com