Jury Duty Is A Real Life Hunger Game

I recently had the pleasure of being called upon by my city to engage in the civic duty of jury duty.More than likely, if you're reading this, you've also had the (dis)pleasure of engaging in this rite of passage.  You take a day off work, to be at one of the facilities around the Chicagoland area, to sit in a room full of people, all of which are hating the fact that they are there.While going through the process of the day, it dawned on me;This is a Real Life Hunger Game!!!So, there I am, sitting at Bridgeview Courthouse, in the Jury Assembly Room.  Huge room, not even half full of people.  As you come in, they give you a random number.  Shortly after arriving, a very non-inviting and non-friendly gentleman comes in, and gives you the basic instructions and directions of the day, and then puts on a horribly produced video that explains the process of jury duty, and the basics of how a courtroom works, and what you may see in the courtroom.That's all fine and dandy, but as the hours tick by, most everyone has the same thought in mind; "I hope they don't call my number!"It's like a slow form of torture. Make them sweat it out.  Jury duty strikes me, much like many other aspects of society, as a science experiment that was never ended and now has gone fully awry."How will a large group of strangers act when you put them in a small space, while they dread what is to come...in perhaps the next minute, or the next 3 hours.And so, 2 1/2 hours after arriving, the non-inviting man comes back on the intercom: "Please gather up your belongings. I will be calling numbers, blah, blah, blah...if you hear your number you are doomed, blah, blah, blah...death, destruction, $25 a day, etc, etc.OK....maybe he didn't say we were all doomed, but he definitely did say that we would be paid $25 a day.  Hmm...if jury duty is so damn important, why is the pay s**t?And as he called numbers, you could hear groans arise across the room.  In my head, I was chanting over and over "Not me, not me, not me, not me...""Number 32!"Son of a b***h!  I thought, as I looked down at the little slip with a 32 emblazoned on it in a large, bold type.I moved towards the door, in a shuffling fashion, just like everyone else.  Maybe if we drug our feet and took forever, the guard would say "Damnit!  You don't want to be on a jury and do your civic duty???  Well fine then!  Go sit down!It never plays out like that, and unlike in the Hunger Game film, no one tearfully jumps in front of the firing squad to get you off the hook.  You're walking down to that courtroom, like a herd of cattle being led to slaughter, and you will do your duty....for Panem....umm, I mean Illinois!On a brighter note, parking at Bridgeview Court House is far better than anything you'll get near Daley Plaza (Can you say FREE!!!) and there is a gentleman's club right up the street (Can you say Polekatz!!!!).In the end, I did not have to serve on a jury, although it was close.  I was sweating for a few minutes there....stroking the book I'd taken with me to read, looking at the floor. But when it was all said and done, I was not chosen to be on the jury, I got my $25 check, and I went about my happy way.The highlight of the whole day was actually seeing a friend and training partner of mine.  He was there to get married to his beautiful fiancee.  He was looking exceptionally dapper might I add.  It was nice to see them, and let her know how great of a man she was marrying (I kept my thoughts on how beautiful she was to myself) and then I went on my merry way.Jury duty sucks. There's no getting around that.  It has to be done. There's no getting around that.  But at least, for the next 12 months, it'll be done by someone other than me.Hallelujah!