Victor always makes fun of me because I’ve never been asked to do jury duty. He says I must be on some secret list of people to avoid. But last month, I finally got a card telling me to show up.
I filled out the questionnaire and thought I’d be disqualified when I said “no” to the part asking if I am of sound mind and good moral character. I figured that would be a dealbreaker. Surprisingly, it wasn’t — they still told me I had to come in.
Honestly, I’m not against being chosen. I love watching court TV, but I also know that my depression and anxiety can be disabling at times, so I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to handle a long trial.
Nonetheless, I made my way downtown. My map’s directions made me walk out onto a plank in the middle of the river, and then I was swarmed by screeching grackles. My ears hurt. Other cities get beautiful fall colors — San Antonio gets grackles.
Once there, I was sworn in and picked for the first panel for a criminal court. A lady had us all line up in order, but the girl in front of me wasn’t on the list. The bailiff asked, “What’s your street name?” and she replied, “My what now?”
The bailiff said again, “Your street name.” I shrugged and whispered, “What they call you on the street, I guess?” She replied, “Like my gang name?” Then the man behind us clarified, “He wants your address.” We all shared a laugh and suspected we both got red marks by our names.
After that, we hiked up five floors of stairs and stood in a long line in the hallway outside the courtroom. Apparently, this is intentional — when people see a hundred jurors standing around waiting, they’re more likely to take a plea deal. So everyone just stands outside as long as it takes for the lawyers to decide whether to move forward.
I brought a book, so I was fine with waiting. But after 45 minutes, my feet were killing me, so I sat down on the ground. Soon after, the bailiff came out and told us we were about to go in, so I stood back up. Thirty minutes later, I sat down again, and then a lawyer came out saying they were almost ready, so I stood back up.
Another 30 minutes passed, and I thought, “Watch, I’m going to do a magic trick.” So I sat down again, and immediately, the bailiff came out and said, “Okay, everyone get in line!” I said, “TA-DA!” The bailiff probably gave me another red mark.
Then, another 20 minutes passed, and a woman walked in wearing pajamas. She yelled, “WHERE THE FUCK AM I SUPPOSED TO BE? WHY IS THIS SO FUCKING COMPLICATED?” until a lawyer came out to get her. I crossed my fingers that I’d be on her trial because I kind of loved her.
After so many hours, the judge finally came out and told us that, with our help, all of the trials on the docket had been settled. We were free to go home.
It was both a little disappointing and also a relief.
https://thebloggess.com/2025/11/03/whats-your-street-name/
