You get the summons and it feels like you're going to jail.

I always feel crummy about that. I mean the minute I get it, all I want to do is get out of it! But then I think, what if I was on trial. Wouldn't I want someone like me sitting in one of those twelve jury seats? It's my duty to serve. But god, it's just SO inconvenient.

Yet here I am. Writing my blog from a cubicle in the Juror's Room. I brought my pc, but they actually supply laptops and free Internet service now. There's a TV room showing exclusive news coverage, and you can't beat being a block away from Chinatown.

Yesterday morning, first thing, I was called for selection; but after a forty-five minute wait outside the courtroom they said forget it, and sent us back to the bull-pen. It's all pretty dramatic.

First of all, it's a whole different world down here. The architecture of the courthouses is breathtaking, and just blocks behind them are the colorful worlds of Chinatown and Little Italy.

Yesterday I had the most amazing Vietnamese lunch. The beef was like buttah! Next time you're down this way I suggest Pho-Vet-Huong on Mulberry, between Bayard and Canal. And a fellow juror and I went to the San Gennaro Festival before heading back. The zeppolli were so good! The hot soft dough and the powdered sugar. The whole thing is cinematic. A Baskin Robbins world of flavors. I bought a whole pound of fresh salmon for just $6, and even snagged a few fresh soft shell crabs.

As for the system. Well, it's hard to figure. Apparently it's not too busy right now. And it just feels like a lot of paper shuffling. You look around and see a hundred people like you who have jobs and doctor appointments and errands to run, and everyone just sits. Doing their civic duty, hoping to get out soon, and happy they're not on trial.

I remember the days I would come here and just bring a good book. But by end of day, those of us who wound up in the cubicles had brought work. I met a financial analyst, a tv producer, and a lawyer. The analyst also brought her twelve year old son. He brought his Mp3 player and his laptop. He seemed old enough to stay home alone. I wondered why he wasn't in school. Maybe he is home-schooled and coming here was his lesson. But he kept himself occupied for hours on end. I wanted to ask him for help finding my Internet connection, but the mom told me no.

"Please leave him out of anything," she requested. I obliged. She was right.

The tv guy figured out how to get me online. It's "just plug in the cable" but then it's always something else that has to be figured out before that. Anyway, he did.

So today everything is cool. I knew the subway route and went back to that great little cafe for my coffee. The lawyer had won a short story contest and emailed it to me to read, and the tv producer's showing me his company's web site. My new friends are at their cubicles clicking away. I'm getting work done and feel energized by the trip downtown. Plus we're all going out for lunch. I'm psyched to try the whole shrimp wrapped in grape leaves appetizer. Also thinking of ordering....

Wait a sec. There's an announcement. Oh. Okay. Hmmmm.....

We were just dismissed. It's only 11:30 am, but there are so many new jurors, everyone from yesterday is being sent home. Our duty is fulfilled and we will each receive a check in the mail for our time. $40/day - two days for $80.

My new friends are scrambling to put their stuff together. Once their name is called they are gone. Lunch is off. Gone are all the appetizers. We were a group and I thought we would share.

A message on my cell says I have a casting call for a print ad today between 1 - 4. I can call back the agency and tell them now I can go. I will work here for another hour and go to the call. Then I can go home. I can make my doctor's appointment tomorrow, and I won't be late for Rosh Hashana dinner.

This is great, right? It's all worked out well. My name was called and I received my proof of service certificate. So why do I feel a loss?

My group has long gone and now everyone has left for lunch. The cleaning people just walked by. I am alone in the cubicle room writing. Writing alone. Alone amongst the county clerk and the clerk of The Supreme Court in the New York County Court House.

But I have finished. It's time to pack up. Sign-off and go to my call. I look at my watch. It's just after 1, but it doesn't end till 4. Seems I have a little time. Enough perhaps to pick up a spring roll or two. Just for the road.