Heeding the call

I got a summons in the mail a few weeks ago, asking me politely to please come for Jury Selection, iff'n I don't mind.

Ha.

After dreading my fate for weeks, the day of reckoning was finally upon me. This morning I awoke ridiculously early. You see, I was called to serve for the county in which I grew up - my permanent address is with my mother in my home-town. I now live 20 minutes away, at least. To make matters worse, the location of the courthouse was an additional 20 minutes from there.

I bemoaned my luck to a Starbucks barista over coffee this morning, and she gave me a nugget of wisdom: she too was called to an old county to serve on a panel. When she told them that she no longer lived there, she got off scott-free.

Hmmmm....

Running low on time, I rushed home to grab a bit of mail, a bank statement per'aps, to lend credibility to my case.

When I arrived, I was asked to please dispose of my Starbucks coffee in the proper trash receptacle. I was heartbroken. (I was only half-way through!) I was one of only three other potential Jurors there so far.

I approached the official-est looking person there, summons and bank statement in hand, and told my story. After looking at both (to my amusement, they looked two or three times), I was told that I could go, sorry for any inconvenience.

I could feel the daggers coming from the other victims' eyes. If looks could kill ...

So. What to do?

Going into the Suburbs to the Courthouse from Dallas was a breeze. Hardly any traffic, no accidents ... just a nice drive all around (even if it was a little long). That time of morning however, I rather dreaded going back ...

As I sat at an especially long traffic light, a thought struck me.

"Self," I said, "your sister-in-law lives but a few miles further up the highway. Why not give her a call, wait out the traffic, chat for a little while?"

So I did.

:D