All I did was open a door-- but I scared the crap out of two courthouse employees!

In 1988, I had several major changes to my life: I went on dialysis, and I was called for jury duty. It was the first time I had been called since turning 18-- and I later found out that if I hadn't registered to vote, I probably wouldn't have been called. I was really concerned about it, because if it was on a dialysis day, it would create all kinds of problems with trying to get to my dialysis treatment. I had called the Courthouse office and explained that I was a dialysis patient, but was told that since my jury duty was on a Friday morning (a non-dialysis day), I'd still have to report to the Courthouse. I was told that if I was picked for a trial, my doctor could write a note excusing me.

That Friday morning I got up at 5:30 and dressed quietly so as not to disturb my parents, who were still sleeping. Anything paranormal was the last thing on my mind as I drove to Springfield, swearing under my breath as early morning rush-hour traffic threatened to take the front end off of my car. I drove around the Courthouse looking for a parking space, but of course there weren't any, which meant I had to use the (highway robbery) parking garage. After finally finding a space on one of the top levels, I made it to the elevator. I was already dizzy-- and I still had to walk across two streets to get to the Courthouse! By now I was really pissed off. Goddamnit, I'm a dialysis patient! I shouldn't have to be doing this shit! What if I pass out in the street?

After a slow, shuffling walk that seemed to last forever, I made it to the building. It looked deserted, even though it was 7 in the morning. What the hell? Was I even in the right place? Then I noticed some people walking around the building to the back entrance, so I followed them. Ah, yes, here were the other people who'd had their lives disrupted to perform this "civic duty!" It was a quiet crowd, with most people wearing groggy morning faces and wishing they'd brought a jacket because it was chilly in the shadow of the building. Finally a guard unlocked the glass doors, and we all shuffled into the building. Our jury duty room was on the fifth floor-- great! MORE stairs! The elevators were crammed to capacity, and only two of them were working. I'd be late if I waited for one, so I slowly wended my way up the stairs, stopping to rest at each landing. I was afraid I'd get my clothes all sweaty if I hurried, and the prospect of passing out on the stairs and being stepped on by other people really didn't appeal to me. If I was late, tough shit-- they were lucky I'd made it at all!

I got to the fifth floor, which was jam-packed with other jury-duty people. It was already 7:20, and the doors were still locked. People were getting louder, impatient to get the thing started. Just for the hell of it, I walked over to the jury room doors and tried the handle. It opened! I looked around, but no one had seen me try the door. Great! I wouldn't be trampled as I walked in.

I swung open the door and saw two clerks behind a long curved desk, busily doing paperwork. I waited for them to look up and acknowledge me. I waited... and waited... Finally, I said, "Hi, I'm here for jury duty-- do I have to sign in or something?"

Well, you'd think I'd hit them with 50,000 volts! They both looked up at me, stunned. "How did you get in here?" one of them demanded.

"I came through the door," I said.

"No way, we keep that door locked until 7:30!" the other clerk exclaimed.
He came out from behind the desk and put his hand on the door handle.

"It's still locked!" he yelled, then looked at me as if I was some kind of shape-shifter.

"So, should I go back outside?" I asked.

"No, you'll just come back in, anyway," the clerk behind the desk said. I signed the roll-call sheet and went to the back of the room and picked out a comfortable chair. About five minutes later, the herd came stampeding in, and I was glad I'd gotten in early, because several people were left standing next to the windows. One of the clerks had to steal more chairs from another jury duty room.

About an hour later, we were all ushered to an area of folding chairs in front of a large screen, and watched a movie about Your Jury Duty. I think I was the only one paying attention. Some of the 'veterans' were talking in the back row, and the clerks had to shush them. After the lights came on, it was a mad dash to try to reclaim my seat, because some of the people sitting on the folding chairs wanted better places to sit. I managed to get back to my original seat, and continued reading the Anthropology book I'd brought with me. I read the entire 300-page text while I sat in that room. The impatient people around me who checked their watches every few minutes and sighed were really getting on my nerves, but I'm sure their time was passing much more slowly than mine was!

After some time, some lawyers came into the room and stopped at the desk to chat with the clerks. The lawyers looked around the room, said something to the clerks, and then left. One clerk got on the microphone and said, "You are all dismissed from jury duty-- none of you has been selected for a trial." A loud groan went up from the crowd, because that meant that they STILL had not performed their "civic duty" and might very well be called again in a few months. I watched with some disgust as the self-important business people elbowed others out of their way in line for the two pay-phones in the back of the room.

It was already noontime, and I had a very tough time trying to cross the street to get back to the parking garage. At least now I could take my time walking to my car, because I had nowhere to go now that this major hassle was over with. I got into my car and found the parking garage ticket, then drove to the exit and handed it over. I wondered if this jury-duty thing wasn't just a ploy to rake in more money for the garage, because the total came to five dollars. In 1988, that was a little steep, even though today that would be considered relatively cheap.

As I drove home, I thought about the lawyers and how they'd just dumped all of us without any of the 'preremptory challenges' we'd heard about in the movie they'd shown us. Did it have anything to do with how I'd gone through that locked door? Were we just 'too white?" Or did the lawyers have some other secret criteria that we'd never know about?

Considering the increased security that exists at courthouses since the September 11th tragedy, I'm glad that my going-through-a-locked-door experience didn't happen today! Who knows where I'd be now.