Welcome to D.C., where you get taxed at the grocery store for using plastic bags – plowing streets during snow storms takes city officials days to complete – and every two years you get called for jury duty.

FamousDC presents… Scenes from a Washington DC Jury Pool Waiting Room

You show up at 8 am, instructions in hand and you wait in a line you’re not even sure you’re supposed to be waiting in. The line is massive and utterly chaotic. Think Georgetown Cupcakes, but the end goal is far less rewarding.

You continue to wait, wonder and people watch. You slowly notice that nobody actually knows how to act or what to wear to jury duty.

There’s the borrowed sports coat crowd who got entirely too excited about showing up to court. You’ve got the gym moms, who either slept in their clothes or failed to change after their workout. There are a hand full of people dressed comfortably [think crushed velvet sweat pants], a couple of folks dressed to the nines who failed to realize that jury selection is not a quick and painless process. And of course the obligatory Washington Redskins jersey present in the jury waiting room, unless of course that’s actually Donovan McNabb.

The line finally begins to move. You go through airport-esque security and check your camera with security. [just in case you brought your Nikon to jury duty] Two flights of stairs later, you’re back in another line – and you’re waiting again.

Finally, you manage to make it to the front of the line. The time has come to plead your case – the one you’ve been practicing for the last hour and a half. “Ma’am, I can only be here one day. I’ve got this thing, I mean, it’s very important, um, that I’m only here a day. Newt Gingrich. Freedom. Guns. Seriously, I really need to defer this for another year or so. Can I go now?”

Nothing works. You’re given a number and then ushered like cattle into a very large jury waiting room.

The room is equipped with WiFi, but that’s its only redeeming quality. The decor reminds you of a Motel 6 banquet room. There are several big screen TVs, but they’re only used for the 20-minute seminar on juror instructions and responsibilities. The film is captivating. Not since Speed 2 have you anxiously anticipated the ending.

After the video, the long anticipated jury draft starts. You think you hear Mel Kiper in the background, but quickly realize that borrowed sports coat guy is talking to himself.

The first round draft consists of 20-30 names being called. There’s no pomp and circumstance. No loud music accompanying the name-calling. These first round draft picks don’t get to hug the commissioner. No high fives, cell phones calls or photographs (remember the camera you had to check in when you got to security?). You don’t even get a Redskins jersey.

The first round draft picks are then ushered out of the room and the waiting starts … again.

About an hour later, the second draft picks are announced – but these picks know the rules a little better. Instead of hopping up and wondering what to do, they wait until they’re all selected before awkwardly gathering in the middle of the hallway.

The second group leaves. You’re again left to wonder, “what the goes on back there?” What are they doing with those people? Is everyone okay?

The waiting game continues. A few people sleep. Some people attempt to navigate the painfully slow WiFi. The hipsters show off their iPads, while the rest of the 200 people fiddle with their phones and shoot of text messages to anyone willing to listen. One thing is clear, every single person would rather be someplace else.

The fourth hour comes to a close and it is time for lunch. You get an hour break to walk outside, say hello to the sunshine and life as you once knew it. You contemplate not returning, but realize that likely wouldn’t end well, so you grab some food and reluctantly return, only to start the waiting process all over again.

The numbers have dwindled since 8 am this morning, but the crowd is still large. It’s now the third round of the selection process, and much like the NFL’s round three, you don’t know when or where you’re going and you don’t care – you just want something to happen. You just want to be drafted.

But no, another hour passes and you’re still waiting. At this point you’ve exhausted the internet and there is nothing to do. You look around and you’re not alone, your compatriots are suffering with you.

You’re approaching 3 pm and a new courthouse staff member slowly walks to the microphone. She turns it on and asks for everyone’s attention. The room remains silent and she asks, “Does anyone here need to report back to a courtroom today?”

Silence.

She asks again, “Does anyone here need to report back to a courtroom?”

Again, silence.

Then she announces, “Then you are all free to go. Thank you for service.”

The room erupts into cheers. People begin to jump up and down. Total strangers, who’ve been staring at each other for hours, are now embracing. The few guys in front who were asleep quickly jump to their feet full of life. It’s over. You’re finally free.

See you again in 720 days.