The human drama of survival in closed spaces, the utter boredom and brief moments of joy, the gathered crowd — why, there’s nothing like the minute-to-minute Twitter updates of my wife’s jury duty.
Any moment now the doors of the metal lift will open and she’ll be sprung into the open air of Queens County and Camp Jamaica. I hope there’s no mistress waiting for her at the Sutphin Ave. subway stop. Maybe I should have gotten my hair done.