Disclaimer: This post does not contain a recipe, unless you count walking down Ben Yehudah and ordering your usual at Fro Yo as a recipe.
Waaaay back in May, my father emailed to let me know I’d received a jury summons in the mail at my U.S. address. There was a fairly good chance I wouldn’t get selected, so not to worry, he said. I answered the online jury questionnaire thing like I was supposed to, and promptly forgot about it.
That was when Abba emailed telling me I’d actually been selected, and that my jury date was Nov. 14, and my juror number was…
Shoot. Was Maryland seriously summoning me?
I emailed the U.S. Consulate in Jerusalem, asking how I should handle this. The guy who replied to my message advised me to come in ASAP to sign an affidavit and have it notarized, then fax it back to the U.S. I said I’d be at the consulate the next morning.
And I was. I woke up early, fell asleep 10 times during my tremp into the city, and waited in line for a verrrrry long time, amid lots of chassidic families with small children in matching outfits (possibly irrelevant, but it made the wait more interesting). NIS 190 later, I had the signed and notarized affidavit. I missed the bus home by a few minutes, so I did some grocery shopping while I waited for the next one.
While I was at it, I took a little stroll down Ben Yehudah and got me a nutritious lunch: Soft-serve ice cream over an iced coffee. I knew it was meant to be when I saw that Fro Yo had my favorite soft-serve flavor (pistachio) in stock.
When I got home at 4:00 p.m. after the seven-and-a-half-hour day, I felt tired but satisfied. Now I just had to get that fax number.
I plugged in our Magic Jack and dialed the jury office, where a polite woman named Rosemarie answered on the first ring and deferred my jury duty to a date five years in the future.
“Thank you!” I said happily. “I’ll fax in my affidavit.”
“No need,” she said. “I’ve already corrected your file. You can take my word for it.”
Um, what? No need? I spent seven and a half hours and NIS 190 to get this document, and THERE WAS NO NEED?!
I was so incredulous, I didn’t know what to do with myself. It was a good thing my husband walked in about 60 seconds later.
Because, as he pointed out, at least I got my ice cream.
[Coming tomorrow: Succos post-mortem.]