Jury Duty Adenture
The courthouse was right in front of me, but I still could not park there.
Excitement immediately shot through me.
I can park there!
All I had to do was wait for the traffic light to turn green and drive straight across the intersection.
Unfortunately, that was where my morning took a turn for the worse. I stopped at the payment machine and stretched my arm out the window to insert my credit card. As I twisted and reached toward the machine, a sharp pain shot through my right leg and all the way down to my toes.
It happened instantly.
One moment I was reaching for the machine. The next moment I was sitting there in pain.
It hurt badly.
Without even thinking about it, I shifted the car into Park. I got the parking ticket and immediately wondered whether I would still be able to drive. Thankfully, I managed to move the car into an available parking space on the ground level.
The car was sitting partly on top of the line, but I did not have the courage to fix it. The moment my right foot touched the ground, the pain hit me again. I could barely stand.
Still, I had Jury Duty to report for.
I pulled myself together and slowly walked out of the parking garage.
As soon as I stepped outside, the area looked familiar. My brain finally started helping me.
Years ago, I had walked through this area before. I remembered passing Building 600 and following a connecting path toward Building 500, which was my destination. Along the path were trees covered with white blossoms. I still remember how beautiful they looked.
At that time, phones were not allowed in the courthouse. I remember wishing I had a camera so I could take a picture of the scenery.
This time, I headed in the same direction.
Unfortunately, a construction fence blocked the path.
Instead, I was relying on familiar surroundings and faint snapshots in my mind.
I eventually walked into Building 600 and stopped at the information desk.
A man was sitting there.
I asked him how to get to Building 500.
At first, I was not sure whether he did not know the answer or whether he did not understand my question. I kept repeating myself.
"I want to go to the Building 500 address. Which way? Here or there?"
I pointed in different directions while asking.
Eventually, he understood.
Of course, the direction he gave me was exactly the one I had been thinking of. However, my leg was hurting and making me uncomfortable, which affected my concentration. I was debating whether to just keep walking or ask someone to double-check. His answer confirmed that I was heading the right way.. He also warned me to be careful because construction trucks and fencing had disrupted the normal walkway.
The street was narrow, and there were very few cars at the time. I looked carefully before crossing.
A light drizzle was falling.
Luckily, I had my brimmed hat on. I always try to be prepared for the weather.
Still, every step hurt.
I limped through the drizzle. The distance was not far, but it certainly felt far with a painful leg.
Along the way, I passed two men.
One of them looked a little scary, so I walked past him cautiously.
For a brief moment I thought, If that man harms me, the people waiting at the bus stop will help.
Haha.
Nothing happened, of course.
I continued on my way, crossed the street, entered Building 500, passed through security, and headed to the reporting room.
At the administrative window, I handed over my letter and identification.
The man looked at my paperwork and said,
"The reporting time was 8:30 a.m., and the waiting room is already crowded. I will not let you in. You are good to go and can wait for a new letter."
I immediately asked whether I would get into trouble.
He said no.
That was a relief.
I did not have to spend hours waiting in a crowded room after all.
Even so, it was still a bad morning because my leg was hurting.
I definitely learned a lesson.
On the way out, I shifted the car into Park, opened the door, leaned out far enough to reach the payment machine, and paid for parking without twisting myself into an awkward position.
Much better.
The first thing I did when I got home, I called my husband and told him what had happened.
I left a message letting him know that I had already returned and would not be spending the day in a courthouse waiting room.
A few minutes later, he called back.
I told him about my leg and promised to explain everything in detail when he got home from work.
My first Jury Duty letter arrived while I was still a green card holder.
At the time, I was not eligible to serve, so I called and informed them.
To this day, I still do not understand how a Jury Duty notice was sent to someone who was not qualified to serve. I always assumed they would already have that information in their system.
The following year, another letter arrived.
Oddly enough, I was happy.
I wanted the experience of reporting for Jury Duty, although I definitely did not want to be selected for an actual trial. I am fully aware of my English ability. Daily conversations are one thing. Legal English in a courtroom is something entirely different.
The biggest challenge was always parking.
I had not visited that city very often. In fact, I rarely went there at all. I had been there a few times during my early years in the United States, but not often enough to become familiar with the streets, buildings, or directions.
GPS was my best friend.
I vaguely remembered an open parking lot on a street behind Building 500 where I had parked once before and walked a short distance to the courthouse.
That memory stayed somewhere in my mind for years.
The problem was that I never parked there again because I could not find it.
Every time I reported for Jury Duty, I ended up turning into the same parking garage with the big sign that said Courthouse Parking.
Every time, I discovered that the machine was for monthly parking only.
Then I had to reverse and back out.
Fortunately, that never happened. Most cars entered through other entrances, and I was always able to escape.
My husband once made an observation.
"I think we get more Jury Duty letters than other people."
I laughed.
"I agree."
Then I reconsidered and thought that maybe everyone receives them just as often and I do.
Years ago, I had a conversation with another man in a courthouse waiting room. We ended up talking about Jury Duty notices.
According to him, people usually received them about every seven years.
I remember checking the information myself at some point, but I no longer remember the exact number.
That number does not include the notices I received while I was still a green card holder.
From the old snapshots in my head, three were cancelled, and I showed up three times.
This latest visit makes number four.
The time before this was in 2025.
That one was cancelled, and later I received this new notice.
I also remember another occasion, although I no longer remember the year. I arrived around 9:00 a.m., and the staff allowed me into the waiting room anyway.
That excitement eventually faded.
After receiving so many letters over the years, the adventure became less exciting and more inconvenient, especially because it usually involved driving into the city and searching for parking.
Honestly, I much prefer the courthouse in the smaller city where I live.
At least it has an open parking lot.
Buy Me Treats Below ,thanks
