I had to perform my civic duty today. Jury duty. In Cambridge.

I hate driving into Cambridge.

The drive in was something of a horror. I left a half hour earlier than I normally leave for school because the traffic ties ups are always terrible. The solar glare was a killer. There are portions of the Mass Pike where the sun is dead ahead and you can’t see a thing.

I think that I’d call in sick everyday if I had to do this to get to work.

Then of course there was the fact that I got lost. Fortunately I knew right away that I had taken a wrong turn (I didn’t know that I was supposed to go into this strange little tunnel and ended up on the Salt and Pepper Bridge. (For those of you who are Ally McBeal fans, it’s the bridge that they often show in the scenic shots. The towers look like salt and pepper shakers.)

So I managed to turn around and find the courthouse and a lot to park in that wasn’t going to cost a week’s salary.

You know, the government needs to think about doing something to make the whole experience a bit more pleasant. Basically what you do is sit in an ugly, uncomfortable room and wait.

The security in the courthouse was intense, and all bags had to be X-rayed. And it didn’t bother me a bit.

First they herd everyone into a mock courtroom to show a movie about what to expect. Basically in Massachusetts it’s a one-day or one trial system. And in Cambridge you can be called for either a civil or a criminal case. After the movie a judge comes out to talk to everyone.

I didn’t manage to get the name of this guy, but he was good. He talked about John Adams and how important he was in writing the Constitution of the state, not just the nation. By the time he finished speaking I wanted to jump up, sing God Bless America, and wave my flag.

But I still didn’t want to get chosen for a jury.

At about 10:15 they called six of the jury panels. I was on panel 5, seat 16. They called panels 1, 2, 3, 5, 7, 9. They took attendance and announced that we were going to be seated for a criminal trial.

My heart sank. I was petrified that it was going to be a murder trial and that I’d get chosen.

They marched us all into the courtroom to sit in the back, while a lawyer and defendant watched us march in. There was another lawyer at a table closer to the judge’s bench, but he never turned around. The defendant had a smirk on his face and was checking out each person as they walked in.

We sat and waited for a while, and I started chatting with the woman seated next to me who was a lawyer. The judge came in and who had to do the "all rise" business. He then explained that it was a trial that had to do with cocaine trafficking. This guy had provided coke to a bartender who was selling to an undercover cop.

Duh. < P>The attorney that I was sitting with and I were entertaining ourselves by commenting on the proceedings. We decided that the defendant’s lawyer was in desperate need of a makeover. She obviously hadn’t been watching Ally McBeal. The assistant D.A., however, was straight out of central casting.

They then went through a series of questions to the potential jurors, like: did we know anyone involved, were we prejudiced against the testimony of cops, is there a reason we couldn’t be impartial? If you had a "yes" response you had to hold up your card.

Then they started calling numbers one by one to the juror’s box. If you had responded yes to a question you had to go to the judge for a sidebar. Some people were excused and had to go back to the holding tank. Once they had all fourteen seats in the jurors box filled, the lawyers went back to their tables, looked over the papers we had filled out, and challenged jurors that they didn’t want.

Then they called numbers again. This whole process took about an hour and a half. The last person chosen was juror panel 5, seat 11. I just missed it!

I was so relieved.

Then we were all herded back to the holding tank, but panel 7 had to go to another courtroom.

The elevators were really slow, so we decided to take the stairs down the five flights. All any of us could think of was what it must have been like in the towers, trying to escape, on crowded stairwells, not knowing what was going on.

It was awful.

Finally at 1:00, which was the lunch break, they told us that they wouldn’t be seating any more juries and that we could leave.

Cool. I’m done for three years.

I went to the mall to grab some lunch, bought the new Nick Bantock book "The Gryphon" and headed home.

And got lost.

I missed my turn to get on the Pike, so I just decided to use logic and see if I could find my way out. Amazingly I ended up in the middle of Newton, not far from Boston College, and knew exactly where I was. I have no idea how I go there, but somehow I did.

I’d probably never be able to do that again.

Of course, I’m still wrapped up in the news and the terrorist attack.

The smoke, not just from the fire, but from the dust and debris of the collapsed buildings has not yet totally cleared. I keep trying to imagine the skyline without the towers. On one show they did have a shot of what the view was from Central Park was on Monday, and what it is now. The Empire State Building has no backdrop. It makes me want to throw up.

I tear up over little things here and there as I watch the coverage. But last night I really cried as they announced that they were evacuating the Empire State Building because the bomb-sniffing dogs had found something.

Fortuanely nothing came of it, but just the idea of it really shook me up.