I received a summons for jury duty. Like a good citizen, I appeared on this hot summer day, with the expectation of being the greatest juror on earth, if not in the history of the legal system. Okay, I was dreaming, but allow me that.  I no longer have an exemption of a cop, because I’m retired, and live in a different county than I worked. There I was with my little summons in hand, driving a good hour to the court house through traffic, because I live in rural county and at the eastern most end of it. And wouldn’t you know, where I needed to appear would be in the western most section of the county. I fought my way down a very congested, lost in the seventies freeway to do my civic duty.I made sure I got there early, treated myself to breakfast, and waited to go through the airport type screening. From there I found the jury room and waited for my moment in the sun. I brought a good book, and sat and waited. I waited some more, waited again. Got a break, ran for the parking lot for sunshine and air, only to return and wait. I waited with all the other citizens, and soon realized why everyone complained about jury duty. It’s the waiting! And crowded, with the need for up dated rooms, (at least it doesn’t smell like stale cigarette smoke anymore), thank goodness for the non-smoking ordnance.Like any good author, I took the opportunity to study my possibly future partners in jury duty. I found it interesting to wait in a crowded room full of strangers (I desperately tried to convince myself).There was the very confused blond college student, who I wondered, seriously, how she got as far as she did in life. She seemed so very blond and very confused. There was the loud-mouth truck driver, with fowl language in the corner, complaining about everything. I really wanted to personally take him down to the ground, to put my knee in the sensitive part of his back, and make him scream for his mama.  There was the housewife stressing over getting out in time to pick up kids. She should have planned and got someone else to do it.Then, there was me, retired, with one thought, I wished I was somewhere else. The room was small, crowded, with not a single soul looking forward to the experience; accept for maybe me, because I knew those attorneys would have to be drunk, on crack or out of their mind to pick me. Still there was apart of me, who wanted to do my civic duty. Well, sort of, I did twenty years of civic duty, and have a bad knee, neck and shoulder as testament. My civic duty left me with some very unnatural creaks that haunt me in the morning as I fall out of bed, and try to get my limbs to work, at least properly.As a writer this was a prime opportunity to get an idea for a story, while I sat in an increasingly crowded stale, with the walls closing in, room. Okay, I got a headache, no ideas, only the pain throbbing in my templar lobes.Through the cell phones that weren’t suppose to ring, the snores of some rude sleepers, and the complaints of many, I met a lady sitting next to me who was impressed I knew Brenda Novak, (she was reading her book, Trust Me.) We made fast friends, and when we were released from our civic duty for one more year, we had lunch together, and shared animal stories, laughed over my husband and his cat and compared travel adventures. It turned out to be a descent day, and in the end I did my civic duty and made a friend. Question of the Day: Any funny stories about Jury Duty? Or have you made friends in unusal places.Play List:It’s only Rock & Roll  The Rolling StonesSet me Free                  The SupremesLow Rider                      WarMustang Sally               Wilson PicketCelebration                   Kool & the Gang