How Scotch Got Me Out Of Jury Duty

Normally I wouldn't mind jury duty, but November was a bad month for it. I was sure that I would have to attend on election day, or the day of my long-deferred doctor's appointment. It wasn't until I had scheduled a trip to Washington D.C. that I finally received notice, which made me quite unhappy. So today I got up unnecessarily early and went to the Courthouse, convinced I was going to be sequestered for three months for a celebrity murder trial.

It didn't end up being nearly so bad. First, the judge stated that he expected it to be a one-day trial. Hey, a day off! I thought. Second, I was juror #14 of 18, with only 6 to be empaneled. What were the odds I would have to serve?

Pretty good actually. It was a DUI case and the prosecutor apparently had no physical evidence. She kept asking people if they would be willing to convict without a blood alcohol measure, and people kept saying no and getting kicked off the jury.

When it was my turn she didn't ask me that question. She only asked me how I would know someone was drunk. I said that it's very hard to tell if you don't already know a person, since drunkenness is only obvious through a change in personality. She pressed me, and I said that someone passing out would be a pretty good indication (that got a good laugh). I also stated that you have to judge these things from context, so I don't think at that point I was going to be going home early.

Then the defendant's counsel started asking questions. She wanted to know if I had a favorite bar, and I said yes. She asked which one, and I told her. Finally she asked why, and I said "Because of their excellent whiskey selection." Would I be able to identify anyone else at the bar as drunk. "No, that's the bartender's job. I do my business, and other people do theirs."

The prosecutor couldn't strike me off of that jury fast enough.