jury duty

11 THINGS: Jury Duty

Thursday, February 8, 2007

1. 12:55 p.m. Arrive at Hall of Justice for my 1 p.m. appointment, and the first thing I see is a line to the horizon extending slightly beyond oblivion. I briefly ponder hailing a cab and fleeing, but instead walk slowly to the very end of the line. I'm not even in the building yet, and I'm already discouraged.

2. 1:05 p.m. Arrive back at the place where I was at 12:55 p.m.

3. 1:11 p.m. Pockets are emptied on the hard, wooden table near the metal detector. Coins hit the floor and flee. I smile nervously and head for the elevator.

4. 1:15 p.m. Finally arrive in the promised land. After kissing the ground, I am eyed suspiciously and told to have a seat and wait. We watch an "instructional" video about the joys of jury duty. (We, the jurors, declare this video guilty of not being serious.) My name is eventually called. I jump up and head down to the courtroom. Another line forms.

5. 1:34 p.m. My name is called again. I say, "Here," but I no longer really mean it. I go back to counting the holes in the ceiling. The judge reads and rereads the rules like a stewardess giving seat belt instructions at the beginning of a flight. The difference is: We're not going anywhere.

6. 1:59 p.m. Someone subjectively points out the impossibility of objectivity. As the judge smiles, I feel myself begin to drift ...

7. 2:04 p.m. "It is April 43, 2000. Today is a day of great triumph. There is a king of Spain. He has been found at last. That king is me. I only discovered this today."

8. 2:10 p.m. I look across the room and squint. Don Quixote and Sancho Panza are quietly discussing something. Mona Lisa is smiling. Dave Barry is laughing.

9. 2:14 p.m. My phone vibrates. Valentine's Day is attempting to call me, but I'm not allowed to answer.

10. 3:33 p.m. "I've seen things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. I watched C-beams glitter in the dark near the Tannhauser Gate."

11. 4:30 p.m. I am 117 years old. My great-great-grandchildren are in junior high school now. I have read and reread "War and Peace" and "Crime and Punishment" and, yes, I am still here ... on jury duty. Kafka mentions that it's time to go. I get up very slowly. A guy by the name of Sartre taps me on the shoulder and asks if I happen to know where the exit is.

Tim Sullivan, tsullivan@sfchronicle.com

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