A little over a year ago, for insurance reasons, I traded in my beloved shiny Florida driver’s license for a wierdly fuzzy New York one, moving myself one step closer to becoming an official ‘New York City’ resident.

(I say one step closer, but technically, I think its already official. However, I like to consider myself still a transplant- commitment scares me (er, except for with ladies, ladies)- so for now, we’ll say its unofficial.)

A side effect of getting a New York license with a Manhattan address was that I was now elible to serve as a juror in New York County Court. And this being New York (with its high crime rate and litigous civilians?), it didn’t take long before I was called up.

When I saw the summons sitting in my mailbox, I felt angry. “Fucking shit, I have fucking jury duty.”

But then, I felt excited. “Woohoo, this is my get out of jail work free card!”

(Question: Was mentioning of jail when discussing jury duty thing a pun? Or a double entendre? Irony? I don’t know literary devices. Either way, it was unintentional.)

Finally, I felt proud. “I am an American. I love America. And damnit, I love justice. I will be the greatest juror this court has ever seen.”

To which everyone replied, “Seriously man, you don’t want to do this. Tell them you hate whites, blacks, hispanics, dogs, policemen, war veterans, gays, taxi drivers, lawyers, tourists, and babies and you will get out of it.”

But I wanted to do this. I would not lie or weasel my way out of this. That would not be the American way. OK, maybe it would be a little, but still, I wanted none of that. I wanted to be a fucking great juror. I wanted to be the spokesman for the jury. The guy who stands up at the end and says “We find the defendant guilty as charged” while staring down the bad guy with a face that says “Seriously, you thought you’d get away with this? Not on MY watch, bucko!”

Or, you know, if it was a civil case…”We find the defendant not guilty” with a look at the plaintiff that says “Seriously, did you really think you’d win money because you didn’t realize the hot coffee you ordered would be HOT?! Not on MY watch, you frivolous bucko!”

Anyway, I was due in court last Thursday. I could barely sleep Wednesday night, I was so excited. On Thursday, I showed up in court ready to serve my city, enforce laws, possibly find a hottie juror whose morals I would question (yes I’m attempting innuendo here), and maybe even create a precedent or two (and yes, now I’m pretending to talk like I know about law).

I got detention instead.

I went to the assigned floor, and found a room filled with a hundred or so chairs. People slowly filed in and grabbed seats, but there didn’t seem to be anyone in charge. Finally, 15 minutes after the designated start time, a man in an official looking uniform walked in, gave a brief welcome speech, and began a lengthy, painful roll call.

In middle school detention, after roll call, we had to write a paragraph about ‘Attitude’ over and over again for 30 minutes. In jury duty, they made us watch a video. Ed Bradley (60 minutes) narrated a segment about the evolution of justice systems from ‘trial by ordeal’ to the American ‘trial by jury’ court system. Then, Diane Sawyer kicked off a segment, designed to help us form a positive ‘attitude’ about being there (I didn’t need this, mind you), featuring 15 minutes of former jurors giving testimonials about the time they served on juries.

After the video, we just sat around. For hours. Then went to lunch. Then sat around some more. Like we were in detention.

Ordinarily, jury duty works like this: Behind the scenes, a judge and maybe some lawyers decide there will be a trial. Then, a random set of jurors is pulled out of the available juror pool (the people like me sitting in the room) for questioning by the lawywers from both sides. This is so the lawyers can try to pick a jury that will most likely side with them. They accept or reject jurors, and continue to pull groups of people until they get a full jury, and then begin the trial.

If there are no cases, then no jurors get pulled, and everyone sits in the main room like we did on Thursday, waiting for cases to come up. And if they don’t come up, you just continue to sit there. Sure you can leave, but what if a case comes up and your name gets called? Then all of a sudden you’re in a ‘failure to appear’ situation, possibly facing a fine or another summons.

This made going to the bathroom hard. “Should I go now? What if they call my name? I don’t want to get screwed. [15 minutes pass] Damnit, I knew I should’ve gone 15 minutes ago. Should I go now? What if they call my name? I don’t want to get screwed. [15 minutes pass] Damnit,….”

And so the day passed. Sitting around until dismissed for lunch, then coming back until dismissed for the end of the day. Luckily I had my blackberry and some reading material, but time seemed to be standing still. People were sitting quietly, reading, or taking naps. An occasional cough or sneeze broke the silence.

Like detention.

On Friday, we showed up and went through the same routine (sans video). Roll call. Sitting around. Boredom. Silence. Did crime take a day off?

Finally, around 1pm, the uniformed man made an announcement. He would be calling our names, one at a time. We were to come up and grab our certificate of service, and leave for lunch. We were not to come back. Our duty was served.

I was devastated. My dreams of civic contribution shattered by a horrible mispronunciation of my name and a certificate signifying no real accomplishment.

I came to serve my city, but my city didn’t care. I came to uphold justice, but there was none to be upheld. I came to right wrongs, but no wrongs needed righting.

I came to punish. I left punished.