Wed 10 Mar 2010
Trials and tribulations
Posted by bitterandrew under Culture, General, autobiography
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You may have noticed I have been going a little light on the content for the past week and a half or so. This was due to my being hit with a double whammy of obligations — one civic, one personal — which effectively killed the motivation to work up anything substantial.
I spent the lion’s share of last week at the Middlesex Superior Courthouse in scenic North Woburn, where I acted on the Commonwealth’s behalf as the mysterious Juror 13. It was the third time I had been summoned to jury duty. Unlike the previous two go-rounds where I was sent home at noon, I was selected to serve this time.
While I didn’t want to spend an entire week observing and deliberating over a petty dope dealer’s version of Rashomon, I let myself be swayed by the presiding judge’s patriotic appeal, as well as the almost identical arguments I got from both Pal Dave and my father about being the type of juror I would want if I was the accused.
It was an infuriating experience, and my mind was ablaze with ideas for a cutting and snide post about the process once the gag order was lifted. After it ended, however, and I had a little time to reflect on what had happened, I realized that things worked out exactly as they should have.
It was a fairly open-and-shut case as far as I was concerned. Some undercover vice cops (who bore an uncanny resemblance to the horn section of Reel Big Fish) witnessed a petty crack dealer in action, used an informant to lure him to a specified location for a sale, then nabbed him with a wad of cash, three cellphones, and baggie full of product. It’s the type to thing that could have been decided upon in fifteen minutes of deliberations, but the tedious ten-hour debate over details, methodology, and motive meant that the defendant got the fairest shake possible by those who were deciding his fate.
It may not been efficient nor enjoyable, but the system worked…and proved that it is possible that a diverse group of people can reach a workable consensus if provided with proper information and motivation.
Once my duties as a juror were completed, I had eight hours on Monday to catch up on the backlog at my day job before heading out for yesterday’s appointment with my endodontist. I’ve had root canal therapy done on two of my teeth in the past. In both cases, the procedure has been relatively straightforward, while the recovery stage has been the stuff of nightmares — one time involving a raging abcess and the other massive bruising that took the better part of a week to heal.
I had no idea what to expect this time around. On one hand, I was being proactive and getting the problem resolved before the molar in question went supernova; on the other, it was situated next to a grossly impacted (read: “sideways”) wisdom tooth in an area where I’ve had near-constant infections since 1999 (when a bit of popcorn husk worked its way in between the molar and my gums).
The procedure went smoothly, I rushed home before the local wore off, and waited for the aftermath. It turned out to be…not pleasant, but not an extended exercise in oral agony, either. There’s a bit of bruising, the inside of my cheek is raw with needle tracks, and I feel like I was kicked in the face, but the area is now free of the inflamation and low-yield pain I’ve gotten accustomed to over the past decade.
So there you have it, the state of the state of things. I still have some writing obligations to fulfill for the Bureau Chiefs’ website and the book project, but I’m otherwise back to sailing for myself for the forseeable future.
