|Weird photo, Cuyahoga County Justice Center|
Dear Lord, I apologize in advance and ask you to please forgive me, but some things just have to be gotten through.
Before I leave the subject of last week's jury duty to rest, I am compelled, dear reader, to recount the only harrowing experience of the event, which played out, ironically enough, on the elevator.
A rather corpulent older gentleman and I were waiting on the lift to take us to our respective higher destinations. Ding Ding went the indicator bell and one of the doors in the elevator bank predictably opened with a smooth pneumatic whoosh. A smug thirtysomething man in a sharp suit sauntered out.
Me and the fat guy went in.
We were met with a little gift from the previous occupant: a noxious cloud of flatulence, of which I will offer no further description.
Unfortunately for me, my co-rider was only going to floor three. Since I was going to the fourth floor jury staging/waiting area, I had to withstand the onslaught for the duration of my ride as well as a complete stop.
I cupped my hand over the nose and endured, eyes squeezed shut, whilst beads of sweat popped from my upper lip.
When I relayed this story to the Goat, he remarked, "Guy was kind of doing a 'pay it forward' sort of thing, huh?"
Pay it forward indeed.
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