The Lady in Front of Me

Having several hours with nothing to do and no responsibilities sounds heavenly … until it happens to you.

Hour one:

I’m in Jury Assembly Room S52 in the St. Louis County Circuit Court building. I’ve been here only an hour, at least that’s what the clock on the wall tells me. My internal “Boredom Meter,” tells me it’s been much longer. The notice on the wall states that the maximum occupancy for this room is 259. The room is full, that’s a lot of bored people.

Hour two:

There is a magazine rack in the far-left corner. It’s not getting much traffic, not at least two hours into the process. Once everyone’s cell phones start to go dead, there may be a run for 8-month-old copies of Sports Illustrated and People magazines.

I’m situated about three-fourths of the way back on the left side of the room. I was hoping for better people watching, but it’s a pretty nondescript group of humans, at least from my perspective, observing a collection of the back of people’s heads.

I’m bored out of my gourd, and since misery loves company, I will do my best to bore you too by attempting to describe the lady directly in front of me.

Occasionally she will look left or right, giving me just a glimpse of her face. She is not wearing any makeup. A collection of faint age spots are sprinkled across her cheeks just below the tiny crinkles that extend from the corners of her eyes. Her hair is a pretty shade of auburn, clean and shiny, straight with no hint of curls. I can’t determine the length, but it’s long enough to drape over the front of her left shoulder. Periodically her left arm raises, reaches behind her head and pulls back into submission any strands that are attempting to stray.

A pair of small, simple, silver hoop earrings and a tiny silver chain necklace are the only jewelry visible to me.

Her cap sleeve t-shirt, a soft salmon-pink, compliments the texture of the fabric, softened through many laundry cycles.

Her head bobs ever so slightly in the manner of someone whose legs are crossed, and whose foot is wagging up and down. Other than that, she sits erect, almost motionless compared to my fidgeting.

She pulls a paperback out of an unseen bag and for a moment raises ir high enough for me to see the print, but I can’t make out the title in the running head.

It’s human nature to make snap judgements about people based on their appearance, wardrobe, manner of speaking, etc. After sitting behind someone for a couple of hours, I wouldn’t call this a snap judgement but I’m quite sure she …

Oops, the bailiff just called my name, gotta go!

(FYI, got selected and I’m sitting in a jury for the rest of the week)