It was my distinct honor and privilege to be awarded Jury Duty in the County of New York Civil Court beginning Wednesday, November 20, 2002. The following is an account of that service.
As I approached the New York County Civil Court building on 60 Centre Street at 8:15 on that Wednesday morning, I was filled with a sense of civic duty. I had voted only a few weeks earlier, and now this; I was truly running the gamut of good citizenship. As the Flag waved proudly in my mind, my eyes caught sight of that Grand Banner, seemingly at the foot of the long steps up to the courthouse entrance. In fact, there were about a dozen of them. As I got closer, I realized that these weren’t flags at all, but merely the tops of tents in which vendors were selling all manner of useless and stupid crap. Ah, America! Here was capitalism at work! Here were Americans (presumably) exercising their right to free enterprise in what I lovingly dubbed “Bloombergville*”. They sold costume jewelry, small toys, cell phone accessories, glass paperweights, aromatic bath chips, African statuettes, electronic birds in cages, framed butterflies under class, ships in bottles. I was almost inspired to buy something, if only to further cement my civic experience by becoming a consumer, the epitome of the American experience. Almost. I chose instead to exhibit another, far less prevalent or popular American trait: intelligence. I walked up the long stairway to the courthouse to join my peers for jury service.
What little excitement I truly possessed about Jury Duty (despite my brief twinge of patriotism outside in Bloombergville) was extinguished as I stood waiting to pass through the metal detectors at the entrance to the courthouse. There I stood with three or four dozen bleary-eyed potential jurors, placing our bags on the conveyor belt, filing singly through the beeping gateway. For observing those in front of me, it was clear that the metal detector was rather sensitive, being set off by any metal object. Yet a man, fully decked out in all manner of bling bling, walked rather absently through the gate. The alarm sounded. He passed back through, removed his watch, and proceeded through again. Alarm. He passed back though, removed his bracelet, and proceeded through again. Alarm. The pattern clearly eluded this man. Back though, necklace off, proceeded. Alarm. Back through, one earring off, proceeded. Alarm. It is important to note that this man wore two earrings in each ear. Yet at this point he removed only one. He removed only one freakin earring. Perhaps it was the one he believed to contain the most metal? Either way, three remained on his ears, and the pattern was repeated three more times before the man was cleared to proceed. I wish I could tell you that this was the only example of such thickness. In fact, the majority of people passed through the metal detector at least three times. I passed though once.
It was then I realized that I could never fairly be placed on a jury. All American citizens are guaranteed the right to a trial by a jury of their peers. And these people are my peers?
I took the elevator to the fourth floor and had no trouble following the signs to room 452. I settled into one of the many surprisingly comfy chairs in the big holding room. As orientation began, the guy sitting next to me made contact. He had been one of the seven audience members at the pervious Saturday’s T.J. Monkey’s show. I thanked him for being there. Oh, and he liked the show. Perhaps there were some of my peers around after all.
As part of the orientation, a film was shown giving some basic insights into the legal system and jury service narrated by Ed Bradley and Diane Sawyer! Two news media giants from opposing networks united for America; this had to be good! And it was, friends, it was.
The film opened explaining and illustrating some examples of “trial by ordeal” whereby medieval Europeans would dole out justice. These were things like tossing a suspect into a lake to see if they float. If they did, they were guilty and executed. If they didn’t, they drowned and went to heaven. The film then went on to give a brief history of juries, and essentially asked the rhetorical sleepover question “would you rather have to serve on a jury or have your brains boiled and licked by the biggest geek in school?”
As if the New York Unified Court System wasn’t insecure enough, they then felt the need to try to compare jury service to voting. “When you vote, you are one of many,” Chief Judge Judith S. Kaye advised while blinking incessantly, “but when you’re on a jury, your one of a powerful few.” Argh! I thirst for power! Place me on a jury! ARGH! I believe this is what created Hitler; a sublte combination of psychosis, sociopathic behavior, and never getting picked for a jury.
I found it mildly amusing that I was selected for Jury Duty based upon the fact that I was a registered voter. I probably would never have been picked had I not registered. Trying to make Jury Duty more glamorous than voting will not be a very effective strategy.
* Mike Bloomberg is the millionaire businessman who replaced Rudolph Giuliani as mayor of New York City in January of 2002. The New York County Civil Court at 60 Centre Street is diagonally across the street from New York City Hall.