The week of my life I’ll never get back

Jury duty is finally over.  I was going to write about it midweek, but my mental state was alternating between fury, melancholy, and hopelessness so quickly that I could only compose gibberish.  I expected to feel some sense of delight or positivity when I was done, but it’s more akin to removing broken glass from a cut.  Yeah – it’s gone but it’s gonna hurt like a bitch for a while.

Before I recount my harrowing experience, let me provide some background: on the questionnaire I filled out Monday I answered “No” to all of the questions, except one.  This question was (paraphrased): “Would you be less inclined to believe the testimony of a police officer due to their occupation?”  I answered “Yes” because 1. I was pissed off and hoped this would get me removed from the jury pool (spoilers: it didn’t) 2. Cops are dicks, especially suburban ones.  They’ll lie through their teeth in the case of traffic violations, noise complaints, etc. This would inevitably bite me in the ass.

Tuesday

Got called for a panel of 35 first thing in the morning.  Well, that’s relative.  Because everything moves glacially in the judicial system and the administrators seem to receive sadistic pleasure from watching us squirm anxiously in our seats.  Maybe an hour after my name was called we’re led to (an admittedly impressive) courtroom.  Sexual harassment case.  Fuck my life.

The defendant was a pale and scrawny dude with thinning, oily hair.  The prosecution was spearheaded by…a police detective.  Husky, crewcut hair, asshole, the whole shebang.  The lawyers questioned the jury, so they could whittle their jury list down to 13.  “Do you have any relation to any members of the legal proceedings that would prevent you from being a fair and impartial juror,” “Have you or a family member ever been accused of sexual harassment” “Have you ever been the victim of sexual harassment” and whatnot.  I was dead behind the eyes, because none of these applied to me, and because I wanted to be dead.  If I had been selected I could have been done by Wednesday.  But then, in the flesh, the question:  “Would you be less inclined to believe the testimony of a police officer due to their occupation?” I bit my tongue.  Did they even look at my questionnaire?  Fuck the police, but a detective’s a little more credible and wouldn’t lie about an accusation like this.  I just wanted to get this done with.    The lawyers and judge then spent about an hour talking quietly among themselves to decide who would be selected to the jury.   Needless to say, I was not selected and returned to the jury pool.

Dismissal for midday bloody marys lunch.  Pensive self-reflection on the banks of the Susquehanna river.  Contemplating faking my death via drowning.  Narrowly deciding against it.  Back to the courtroom.  I tried to read Slaughterhouse-Five, but I had found a comfortable chair and fell asleep immediately.  Waking up after an hour with drool on my chin, I felt a little better, simply because I was less cranky.  Around 2 PM, they performed a humane act by dismissing us early.  Sure, we had to be back at 8 AM the next day, but I was at the parking garage faster than you can say “Usain Bolt”.

Wednesday

Stop me if you’ve heard this before.  First thing in the morning I’m selected to a panel.  For a sexual harassment case.  The prosecution is represented by a police detective.  I am not selected to the jury.

On the bright side, the bartender at Arooga’s started making my bloody mary as soon as I walked in the door.  And we got released at 3 PM, after some light reading and heavy napping.

Thursday

Called for another panel first thing in the morning.  They didn’t even bother taking us to a courtroom this time.  In fact, I sat in the waiting room all day.  So did everyone else  (they mentioned the case may be settled out of court, though provided no definite answers).  So from 8 AM until 2 PM we waited for a non-existent case.  My panel was dismissed, to return on Friday at 8:15 AM.  The remaining 12 jurors who weren’t selected to any panels?  They were sent home at 3 and given Friday off.

Friday

This had to be my last day as a juror.  Didn’t make me feel any better about it.  Got to “downtown” at 7:45, and needed coffee and checked my phone for a nearby Starbucks.  This is where I made an interesting discovery: There’s 1 SB in Harrisburg’s city limits.  It is adjacent to the Whitaker Center’s gift shop.  There are a grand total of 6 locations on that map (I live in the green circle at the top right, for reference).  Whereas there are at least 10 locations in center city Philly alone.  Pay close attention to the scale of the maps.

It also confirmed my sneaking suspicion that Harrisburg is a poor excuse for a city.

8:15, and we wait.  And we wait and wait.  Thankfully, Fatty isn’t around to tell his piss-poor jokes.  Just a bunch of obese old ladies discussing how much butter they eat and how little they exercise, keeping us in the dark about when we’ll be dismissed.  It’s approaching 11:30, that’s usually bloody mary lunch time, so I’m getting anxious and thirsty hungry.  The spherical, annoying bitch from Monday decides we’re finally allowed to leave – because the judge was not in today but had not returned any calls until that point.  Before we could finally leave, we had to receive an official piece of paper that states that we are cleared for jury duty for 3 years.  Of course, these papers are handed out in alphabetical order, and I am the second-to-last person to receive mine.  After 30 hours over 5 days, I am released.  I am compensated 77 dollars (at a rate of $2.56/hour).  I am selected to three panels, and 0 juries.  So it goes.

Jury duty is henceforth categorized with the Dallas Cowboys and The Big Bang theory as the things I hate most on this planet.  A couple hours removed from this most awful life experience, I’m finally recovering.

Let’s quickly rehash all the good things that happened this week, because life’s too awesome to be a negative nancy!  That’s all the negativity I can muster for the rest of the summer, so it’s all smiles from here on out.

-Had a phone interview with one of my former professors at Temple.  Going back to Philly August 20th for a formal interview!  I have a future!  Woohoo!

-Discussed ideas for our future sketch comedy/webseries with “JT” and “Merc”.  Coming to a youtube channel near you!

-Got a new phone!  My trusty dusty Droid X’s battery had finally gone kaput.  Got the Samsung Galaxy SIII, and it’s phenomenal.  Until the next iPhone comes out, or I drop it, I’ll have a top-of-the-line phone that works as it should!  Feels good man!

-Read through Slaughterhouse-Five which Crazy Al lent me many months ago.  Awesome book.  (And the subject of an upcoming blog post?  I say that a lot, don’t I?)

-Brother’s birthday party is tomorrow, so I get to troll a bunch of little kids for a few hours!

Have a lovely weekend, everybody!

The first in a series on food: Temple U’s dining halls

If you know me, you know I love food (who doesn’t?).  Although I don’t have a super nice camera or the hipster mentality to take pictures of everything I eat, I can tell I’ll be writing a lot about food; this is the first in the series of many food posts.  I will write about restaurants, half-baked recipes, homecookin’ (my parents are better cooks than yours!), snacks, drinks, and whatever else finds itself in my mouth (that’s what she said, yadda yadda).

What inspired this post is my lunch today: my final, and most devastating visit to J & H ever.  I will describe in gory detail later on.

I’ve had a 50% love 100% hate relationship with Temple’s dining halls.  The food trucks and stalls on campus are unique, delicious and cheap, and merit their own, more positive post at a later date.  But today I’ll be airing all of my dirty laundry with the synthetic, food-like substance Sodexo caters to my alma mater, Temple U. *cue exasperated groan from all Temple students*  Thankfully I have eaten at these places sparingly since sophomore year, barring a few exceptions.  For those of you who know them, I could often be caught in these situations with my pals Mikhail, Zaq, Keith, Adam, and Matt.  We bonded over these awful, awful experiences.

I’ll start with the cafes in the academic buildings.  These things weren’t half bad.  The prices were jacked way, way up, but the food wasn’t awful (it’s hard to mess up pretzels and pastries).  Plus, the coffee is pretty good, and only a buck to refill a travel mug.  Sure, most of the employees were either dead behind the eyes or furious that you disrupted them from texting, but all of the cafes had something that stuck out.  Tuttleman had decent sandwiches, and put weird, crushed up ice in your drink.  The one in the business school had a great coffee selection, and the baristas would give us free (delicious) scones/muffins over the summer.  The library’s was always swamped with Asians (not racist, simply true).  Ritter annex has one that is for whatever reason, neon blue.    Oh, and the one in Anderson hall made that whole hallway smell like tunafish.

Onto the SAC.   Set up like a shopping mall foodcourt, there was a pretty decent selection of food.  This place had some real hits in my book – and some spectacular misses.

  • Cheesesteak place: 9/10.  Maybe the single best food you can get in Temple’s dining hall.  Delicious bread packed with tender steak, cheese and onions, Philadelphian ambrosia.  They weren’t a shitty, stuck up touristy joint (Pat’s/Geno’s, I’m looking at you) so they would let you put whatever you want on the steak.  My favorite was the pizza steak: provolone, onions, banana peppers and marinara sauce.  It came with a side of fries, or you could get a “Jumbo” which was flippin’ gigantic.  They might have made some other stuff, but who cares when there’s cheesesteak?
    • Mikhail Jean, if you’re reading this, I’ve seen you eat at least 50 steaks from here.
  • Wrap Up: 8/10.  It’s hard to mess up a wrap, and this was a very popular stand.  As a result that meant lines for DAYS.  After the pasta place went belly up, they did the smart thing and just made another wrap place.  Another reason the lines were so long is because these were the laziest cafeteria workers at Temple.  But anyways, the food: the chicken was so breaded and drenched in sauce that any nutritional value from vegetables had been negated.  Asking for light sauce and grilled chicken solved this problem, thankfully.  The kettle chips and pickle were a nice touch.  Probably the thing I got most often, in hindsight.
  • Einstein Bros: 7/10.  Bagels are such a delicious snack/light meal/staple breakfast.  The selection of bagels and cream cheese was solid, the sandwiches were totally delicious, and the pepperoni pizza bagels are to die for (I’ve seen Mikhail eat hundreds of these).  This shop suffered from awful coffee, long lines, and employees who could not say my name for their dear life.
  • Stone oven pizza: 6/10.  The pizza was disgusting, and would receive negative points by itself.  The flatbread sandwiches more than make up for lackluster pizza, though.  My favorite was the chicken parm, which was  also served with kettle chips for some reason.  Pretty delicious, but these ladies were mean too.
  • Salad bar: LOL like I ate salad/10.
  • Dos Manos/Sushi place: 5/10.  Both of these places were perfectly average.  Close-but-no-cigar attempts at food that is made much better all over the city.  Dos Manos was a bland Chipotle/Qdoba knock-off, with rubbery chicken, plain white rice and salsa without any kick.  The sushi place made extremely small rolls, and used imitation crab meat, imitation shrimp, and probably imitation rice.  Palatable if drenched in orange spicy sauce + soy.
  • Burger King: 2/10.  Already the worst fast food restaurant (another upcoming post, I promise), it suffers from being jammed into a university foodcourt.  The limited selection of food sucked worse than usual, and the prices were super inflated.  Has since been replaced, I think.
  • Hot dogs/sliders: 0/10.  This stand was a virtual ghost town, I’ve eaten there  ~3 times.  Hot dogs sucked, tater tots were mushy, and I got the sliders once and threw up a couple hours later, so fuck this place.  Anyone know if it’s been rehashed again?
  • Chinese place: -30/10.  A disgrace to Chinese food.  Granted, most of the China food I’ve eaten recently was made in North Philly kitchens, and may contain cat meat, but I still have standards for my China food.  Bland, chewy, and generally disgusting, this place was downright offensive.  And for reasons I couldn’t control, I kept coming back: sheer quantity of food, and extremely short lines – most other people had realized this place sucked and stopped going here. Maybe the biggest regret of my life.

And the SAC was the good dining hall.  J & H was worse than hell.  Johnson & Hardwick, located beneath the titular residence hall, was an all-you-can-eat kind of place, and the focus was on quantity over quality.  I don’t think any of the food here was actually food.  We took a cookie during the first month of school and left it in our dorm room all year long, and it didn’t mold, or get stale, or change whatsoever.  That’s just not right.  Before I type anymore, keep in mind that any food that isn’t fruit or cereal should have “fake” typed in front of it.  It could get repetitive if I kept going on about the fake eggs, fake cheese, fake meat, etc.

Why did I even go?  Some days, my friends and I would just be in a mood where we wanted to eat a lot, not necessarily something specific or edible.  Thus, we ended up at J&H.  I’d be very hungry when I arrived, and with eyes bigger than my stomach, I’d load my tray with a ton of food, take a few nauseating bites and instantly feel like shit.  J&H was a cruel beast.

  • Breakfast/brunch was a joke, the “eggs” would squirt out water as I poked them with my fork, instantly ruining my appetite.  The bagels, despite their toppings, still managed to taste like nothing.  Cereal is exactly that – cereal.  Gorilla Munch was something I’ve never seen before, but was more bland than Kix.  The best way to eat the cereal (discovered by, I think, Mikhail) is to use hot chocolate instead of milk.  That’s innovation.
  • Lunch and dinner were a shitshow.  Come during the rush hours, and it would be hard to get a hold of utensils, trays, seats, condiments, or anything else.  Combined with long lines and slow service, it was the beginning of a self-inflicted, excruciating gauntlet of impatience, dissatisfaction, and indigestion.  The vegetarian section had decent hummus occasionally, but other than that it was what looked like weeks old veggie burgers.  Or they may have been hockey pucks, I never touched one.  There was a pretty crappy “deli”, and a “classics” line that served meat & potatoes Americana meals that tasted a lot like Americana TV dinners.  The taco/quesadilla line was surprisingly good, though I could never figure out when it was open.  There was a daily selection of bland “pasta”, “burgers”, “hot dogs”, and “fries”, which were awful at best.  The pizza turned into cardboard a few moments after leaving the oven, so there was a short window whence it was enjoyable.  The saving grace was the “international” line with occasionally decent food cooked by an “actual cook” – the orange chicken was particularly good.  Last, and probably least were the drinks, as it was a hassle finding a clean cup, then finding a nozzle that was dispensing what it was supposed to dispense, and then balancing the aforementioned cup on an overstuffed tray.
  • The best part was after the meal, or, after I had given up on eating that shit. My friends and I would be in some state of the itis – too tired and sleepy to move/communicate after eating waaaaay too much shit.  We’d make bad jokes.  Groan about how stupidly full we were.  Talk about the amount of waste we would be defecating shortly.  Inevitably, someone would throw a crunched up paper napkin into someone else’s cup.  This began J&H basketball, which could carry on for quite some time if we were feeling competitive enough.  When the itis was minimal, these games could get intense.  It was the only feasible way to burn calories after poor digestive decisions.
  • The greatest grievance of mine with J&H is the godforsaken FOURTH MEAL.  Starting at about 10 PM to midnight, I think it was meant for drunks and potheads, as the food is all fast-food style instant gratification, and prepared so poorly that one must be under the influence to enjoy it.  The selection was limited to the following:  pizza, chicken fingers, chicken wings, fries and mozzarella sticks.  Temple University really cares about its students’ health — fourth meal may itself be the cause of the freshman fifteen.  In the heat of the moment I stuffed my face as fast as humanly possible, and I only realized my folly as I clutched my gut in pain.  I never learned from my mistakes, and kept returning to the place that left me swollen and comatose.  At some point they may have served me my ass, on a silver platter.

These memories came back in a hurry today, after my final meal in Johnson & Hardwick.  I officially graduated 6 months ago, and am no longer employed by the university, but that’s not the reason it was my last meal.

Little Wu was kind enough to treat myself, lab manager Khoi, Russian doll Darina and myself to lunch at J&H.  I ate voraciously, somehow forgetting that this was a losing battle I was waging.  I helped myself to a roast beef sandwich, steamed veggies, onion rings, a chicken patty, pasta casserole, pineapple and fruit punch gatorade, once again overloading my tray and subsequently my stomach.  I moaned and belched, trying to ease the pressure in my digestive system to no avail.  After dragging myself to the office, I felt the inevitable approaching.  The nausea, the sweating, the burping, I was soon doubled over my chair with my coworkers asking me if I was dying.  I raced the the bathroom as fast as possible without overturning my stomach, making it to the trashcan just in time to barf directly into it

BUURRP-URRRGH

Immediate relief, I made it, and I feel so much better!  Now let me just rinse out my mouth in the sink… …

HHRRGUURGLBUUUURGHHHH

A waterfall of my undigested lunch, leaving in the reverse order it went in, up to the chicken patty.  In a vain effort to cover the mess with paper towels, I caught a whiff of the sickly glop and out came the rest of it,

UUURGGH—BLAAAUUUGGH

onion rings, veggies (full green beans and lima beans), and finally the formerly delicious roast beef sandwich.  My stomach turned itself inside out into the sink, leaving a pink and frothy mash of noodles, vegetables, and mystery meat, along with any nostalgic memories of the dining hall I had ever had.  I was disgusted and ashamed, after 4 years, J&H still owned me.  The food was so vile my body simply rejected it.  I was weak, shaking and tired, I was helplessly overmatched.  I feebly walked back to the office, limped home and collapsed on my couch.  In the final round, Temple University had delivered the knockout blow.  My hat’s off to the champ.