Wish me luck, dear reader. Tomorrow, I enter the storied courts of New York City as a...juror. I found out on Friday, and since then have been thinking of ways to get out of it. But today, I got a pretty threatening email from the courts, promising me that if I don't show, D.A. Jack McCoy will come to my house and spank me. Hard to argue with the firm right hand of Sam Waterson. So tomorrow morning, I'll be heading off for Kew Gardens, which is, apparently, a lot more Kew than Gardens since the immigrants moved in.
I've read mixed reviews online about the whole thing. One guy said they had wi-fi, but another said the jurors are treated like the criminals. She was very upset about that. I hope she was exaggerating. Whichever it is, you'll be the first to know. For the next couple days, I'll be devoting this blog entirely to the jury duty experience. Should you need parenting advice, please call 311.
Post 1: It's gonna be a long day in democracy, so I'm taking all the necessities: iPad, phone, iPod, book, picture of loved ones, and rape whistle (just in case). Also, a sack lunch:
If no one has heard from me in a day or two, please call the police. Also, my wife. Also my orthodontist, Dr. Levine. His cancellation policy is a real ball-buster.