Temporary Posses...

Last month, I was the lucky recipient of a jury summons.  That’s the price of one of our freedoms in this country, so I never mind it in theory.  Reality, however, brings a host of reasons why I’d rather be anyplace else. 

For starters, I live in a county that spreads across a large portion of metro Atlanta, which means a commute from the northern suburbs to downtown, at a time when roughly a bajillion other people (give or take) are on the highway, headed in the same direction.  Then, given the large population of my county, there are countless cases on the docket on any given day, so selection is a long process.  Still, civic duty prevails, so I filled my coffee cup, loaded my bag with granola bars and reading material, and headed downtown.

Because of the sheer number of prospective jurors required, the courts have a system to handle the influx.  Rather than expecting everyone to rely on chance to find parking or a reliable train schedule, buses are used to shuttle us from a big stadium parking lot to the courthouse.  Easy enough.  Traffic was on my side, I found a nice shady parking spot, the sun was shining.  What more could I ask for?

As I was walking toward the bus area, a couple of people asked me if they were in the right place for jury duty.  I assured them they were and pointed them in the right direction.  Then, I heard someone calling “Ma’am?” from her car.  Since I didn’t see any other Ma’ams around, I deduced that she was talking to me, so I turned to her.  She, like the others, inquired as to whether she was in the right place.  I told her she was and offered to wait and walk with her.  Together, we made our way to the group of people waiting just as the bus pulled up.

When we boarded, there was only one available seat, so I offered it to her (as she was my senior) and I stood nearby.  When we arrived at the courthouse, she was ahead of me exiting the bus so I was a little surprised to see her waiting for me on the curb.  She said “We made it this far, I figured we should stick together.”  So we did.  We stayed together through the metal detector scans, the check in process, and found our way to the already very full waiting area where my new partner scouted the room and found us two seats together.

When I sat down, she quoted one of my favorite proverbs: “If you want to go fast, go alone.  If you want to go far, go together.”  I laughed.  Told her that was one of my favorites, and put my book back into my bag because I was pretty clear I wouldn’t need it to occupy my time.

We chatted a bit, in the way that strangers do.  Or, at least in the way that *I* do with strangers that makes my husband and kids roll their eyes at me.  My new friend – I’ll call her “A” – noted with a chuckle that nearly every person in the very full room had their heads down, faces buried in some sort of electronic device to prevent them from actually interacting with other human beings.  At some point, the woman on A’s other side, put her phone down and joined our conversation.  We’ll call her “B”.  After a bit, the woman (“C”) directly across from us put her book down and commented on something we said.  Before long, we had a nice little coffee klatch – 4 women passing the time – learning from one another, laughing, and just generally enjoying ourselves – while hundreds of people sat silently sequestered unto themselves all around us.

When it was time for our first break, we 4 women, strangers when the day started, found our way together to the break room and shared a table where we sipped coffee, nibbled on danishes, and continued to chat.  When my husband texted to see how my day was going so far, I told him I had a new posse to keep me company.  Back in the waiting area, we settled back in to wait together.

We talked about a little bit of everything.  The news, the uncomfortable chairs, previous jury experiences, our different neighborhoods, job searches, and so on.  A mentioned that her husband was at the doctor that day for a checkup for his kidney transplant 5 years prior.  So I told her about my husband and our experience.  Which led to B saying that her uncle is on the waiting list.  Then A’s name was called to go to a court room.  Soon enough, C’s name was called.  By lunch time, B and I were released at the same time so we decided to lunch together.

Out on the street, the obvious sandwich shops and fast food choices were there.  Then B stopped a busy looking man on the street and asked for a recommendation.  *Note to my kids – SHE stopped the stranger on the street, not me!*  He told us where he was going and offered to lead us there, so we followed.  There, in this tiny little place we’d never heard of, we had delicious Jamaican food that never would have happened without the guidance of a stranger.  You know, because we took a chance, trusted the guy, and went along with him.

 Back at the courthouse, with full bellies, the room was quickly emptying out.  Then B was relieved for the day while I was left in the final group for selection.  The end of my posse for the day.  So, I checked my email, pulled out my book and settled in.  After about an hour, I was finally let go – the last potential juror to be released that day...the sole survivor.  Civic duty done.

I don’t know if my Court House Posse took anything away from their time with me.  I hope so.  We talked about children and schools and everything that I suppose a group of friends would chat about over coffee.  We were different ages, different races, and of different lifestyles but, there in that room, we were all the same.  I think we all learned something during our time in those uncomfortable chairs.

Of course, I can think of a hundred things I’d rather have been doing that day, but I’m grateful for my posse.  I don’t remember their names.  But I will remember their stories and am so appreciative of the time spent with them.  Together, we were able to make a boring day more bearable.

The main lesson I got from the day is that I’m not alone in my instinct to connect with people  I’m standoffishly friendly (it is TOO a thing!) and I’m not alone in that.  And isn’t that kind of the point in life?  Connecting, sharing, learning?  Sometimes a posse is temporary.  That doesn’t make it less valuable.  Be open to the posse-bilities. (ha. see what I did there?)