CedarRound: I-380

Well, after two days of waiting and pointed questions and paper shuffling and exchanging awkward smiles in hallways filled with strangers we weren't quite sure we were allowed to talk to, jury duty is officially over for me. I'd made it through the first cut to 36 but not to the final 14. The process was undeniably tedious but ultimately fascinating, and I'm surprised how disappointed I am that I didn't get picked. I think I was craving some first-hand reassurance that our venerated system of government is still alive and time-tested and functional and honestly serving us, and I was both humbled and honored to be among such a broad demographic of citizens who seemed genuinely eager and dedicated and proud to perform their civic obligation to participate in our democracy.

But the gilded Beaux-Arts temple of jurisprudence is no longer my home for at least two years -- unless I get arrested for stealing cat memes -- and I'm now sadly leaving the majestically vaulted juror parking lot under the highway.