This week I’m on jury duty, and originally I was just doing the call-in thing every day. By Wednesday night, I figured this is going pretty well; it’s late in the week, they’re not going to need me.

But I was wrong – I was told by the little robotic voice to get my sick keyster down to the courthouse Thursday morning.

So Thursday morning, I took lots of drugs (which minimally helped), and waited in the jury waiting room. The morning was almost over and it was minutes until lunch time. I figured this is not too bad; I’ll go to lunch for an hour and a half, and there’s little chance of being called after that, and then when the day is over, I’m done with this stuff.

But I was wrong – minutes before lunch, I was on a list of people called to Department G on the fourth floor.

So we all waited like cattle outside the door of Dept G, while a short, chatty, wannabe comedienne clerk told us all her “rules,” including her “pencil policy” regarding what would happen to us if we borrowed one of her pencils and didn’t give it back. What kind of boring life do you have to have before you start formulating “pencil policies?” Meanwhile, I was hot one minute, cold the next, and my nose was running. But I felt there was a decent chance I wouldn’t actually end up in the juror’s box.

But I was wrong. Soon I found myself in the middle of the front row of the box. So now I know that although Colds are Bad, and Jury Duty is Bad, there’s nothing quite as bad as being in the jury box, with a runny nose, in a courtroom with air conditioning that keeps changing, listening to all the jurors answer questions about their lives.

I wonder if they have jury duty in Hell.