I, JUROR

Last May, I was called for jury duty.

That was the 2nd of my two lifetime summonses, but the only time I was ever called and picked. The first time around, I was on-call but was snubbed.

Jury duty is fun. Prior to serving, I received from people I know the saddest, most stressful, and most harrowing experiences known to man while in the process of serving the nation as jurors. Good thing when it comes to other people's personal jury experiences, I was not a very good listener.

The first thing I noticed when I was in the huge jury waiting room - where a couple of hundred potential jurors were probably praying silently but in unison that their names be not uttered in the intercom by the announcer from hell - was that people could be restless while being stiff and silent. Somehow jury duty gives you a crash course in the science of body language analysis and behavioral psychology unless, of course, you are part of the stiff and the silent.

I brought a book that day, no need to tell that, specially if everyone who had the experience tells you, Please, bring a book, even if you haven't read in your life, you will be an accomplished reader while waiting to be called. I think I brought the book Cloudsplitter by Russel Banks because, I was of the feeling, honestly, that I was going to make an impression as a good juror if I read Banks. But then again, maybe I just picked the book hurriedly, randomly.

The fact of the matter is that waiting to be called is the mother of all anxieties, and you need to summon everything within your power and attention to grab the dark x that could be dancing and prancing all over your senses before you actually end up butchering everyone within your 10 foot radius and become the subject of the next jury duty. The biggest irony in jury life is that - you're picked up as juror, you end up as accused.

I noticed a Filipina two rows away while I was watching the videotape of a judge orienting us potentials (potential amucks?!) of what to expect. Firstly, the judge welcomed us. I appreciate that, even if I don't thing anybody shared my feeling. Wheee!!

While the judge was talking, I moved two rows to my right to sit next to the Filipina. I knew she was a Filipina because, well, how could a Filipino not know a Filipina from a mile away? She was on the cellphone (that's not how I knew, silly) speaking Tagalog loudly (there you go!!!) in these very statements verbatim: Daddy, daddy, ano ba gagawin detu? Sondoin mo aku mamya, huh?

I was sitting next to her and watching the judge on tv, half-heartedly, and when she got off the phone I looked at her snappily like a boy scout trooper who just heard the command "Eyes right!", and asked, kind of self-consciously, "First time mo ma'am"? - even if in a split second my face got warm for thinking there was something malicious with my query. (Of course if she answered, even if jokingly, "Hindi, praktisado ako", I would have fainted in embarassment.)

"Oo, ekaw, pers taym den?"

"Oo", I said. "Wala akong kaalam-alam".

"Pupunta muna ako sa quiet room", I continued, pointing to the closed room for those who wanted to shut themselves out from the most stressed-out people of the world, compatriots included.

"Sana hende ka mapeli", she said.

"Ay naku, oo nga, sana hindi", I emphatingly concurred.

Later on I realized, the matter of my snappy and fast concurrence to her prayer was that, I thought, she said "Sana hindi ka makapili".

(to be continued, depending on whatever...)