O…M…G.  I like jury duty.

OK, I hate to admit it when I’m wrong.  I rarely do it, except to Jesus–I figure he can just let other people know if he wants.  But I was wrong about my new assignment.  Being the assistant foreman(person) in the Special Narcotics Division is fun.

As the assistant foreman, I have to perform the foreman’s duties should he be absent or incapable of doing so.  Luckily, the foreman is B.  And he is very capable.  So along with him and R., I basically get a front-row seat to every case presented.  AND we get nice big leather, arm-rested chairs.  AND occasionaly B. will let me ring the bell to signal the warden to return to the courtroom.  So…I’m kind of a big deal.

The tide of my attitude toward duty changed on Wednesday, our second day. Coincidentally, this is also the day when I realized that the other jurors are people, too.  People with their own stories that are actually quite interesting: for example, B. works at my favorite cable news station and R. has a business providing housing and work leads for women just out of prison who want to make a new start. Cool. There’s a charter school teacher and a musician slash writer (aren’t we all).  And, of course, there’s the resident a-hole whose job it is to imply that every cop is a liar and every criminal is framed.  My blood pressure spikes every time he raises his hand.

It’s our job to be the grand jury, which means we hear evidence from the assistant DAs and their witnesses then decide if sufficient evidence exists to bring a case to trial.  Since we’re in the narcotics division, we mostly deal with drug possession and the sale of drugs, with a few weapons possessions and robberies thrown in occasionally.  We meet undercover cops and detectives.  We hear about buy-and-bust deals.  I learned that a booster bag is a foil-lined shopping bag that allows one to get stolen clothes past a sensor without it going off.  I have learned about the penal codes (hee) and legal terms and lots of other smart stuff.  I’ve learned that I’m glad I’m not a lawyer.

It was all such a hassle in the beginning…three days ago.  I had to deal with the subway during rush hour for the first time in two years.  I had to meet new people and have my time affected by them (especially A. Hole, who never shuts up).  My routine was changed as my world was forcibly enlarged.  Uncomfortably altered. Riding that subway, walking those unfamiliar streets, seeing those new faces, I started to think.  I thought about the blocks I walk to work every day and how I rarely look at anyone’s face as I control my way through human traffic.  I thought about how I determine my own schedule, how rigid and predictable it is.  I thought about how I see the same people every day and hear the same stories.  How not much was new until this week, all because of something I never wanted to do in the first place.

I thought about how much the initial discomfort of it all reminded me of my first few months in New York, when my predictable existence was torn open and the world became a thousand miles and a thousand times bigger.  About all the new people I met then, whom I now refer to with titles like best friend and fiance.

Reducing and packing all my stuff into a U-Haul and stuffing it into a tiny apartment.  Being compelled by a court summons.  The road to freedom doesn’t always start out looking that way.