Five Beans

At least I only had to serve one day.  Apparently, the

day after Columbus Day there is a light case-load in

the Mercer County judicial system.  Only one case 

pending, and they settled minutes after our two hour

 lunch break.  A third-rate cheesesteak lunch at that.

I've served my state honorably as a petit juror five

times since the late eighties.  The first time in 

Somerset county, I went all five days and was 

never picked.  The second, in Mercer County, 

I was selected as one of twelve and sat for a week 

in a cocaine-bust trial. I did all I could to stay awake 

in the courtroom; the high setting on the thermostat 

and the white-noise machine challenged my ability

to remain conscious.  We convicted the guy.

I was relieved of duty on my third tour due to the

conviction on my second.

Three years ago, I was tapped and made the 

obligatory call every night before the next court

day, and was told I wasn't needed.  0 for 5.

Two weeks ago, my number was called and I, along 

with 149 other upstanding citizens of Mercer County,

showed up at the courthouse in Trenton at 8:30 a.m.

I read half a book and fought aggressive assaults on my

resolve to stay awake, just barely staving off those attacks

with a loud snort and a quick shake of my head like nothing

had happened.  We were sent home with the promise of

being eligible for petit juror duty in three years.  I've 

already marked it on my calender, because I know 

they can't carry on without me.