A Juror Ate My Damn Lunch

This story, I think, demonstrates something about life in rural Alaska. Maybe.

We had the final day of jury trial today. When a jury is deliberating, someone must keep watch, in case they have questions for the judge, etc. That person is the bailiff. You're probably familiar with the idea of Sheriffs as bailiffs--guys in uniform with a gun in a holster, looking formidable and official. Well, in rural Alaska, we don't have those. We just swear someone to watch the jury and be the bailiff. Usually it's the judge's assistant, but since she needed to get some other work done, I was also sworn as a bailiff. I was supposed to mind the jury during lunch.

One of the perks of being a bailiff is that if you're bailiffing (is that a real verb?) during lunch, you get a free lunch. So, when the jury ordered lunch today, I put in my lunch order as well. A poor boy sandwich and fries.

You must bear in mind that such a meal, prepared by a restaurant, has a value of $20 in rural Alaska. That's why Samara and I don't eat out very much--there are very few restaurants, and they are expensive. Eating out is a REAL luxury.

Wouldn't you know it: the jury returned with a verdict before lunch. Still, the lunch had already been ordered--just not delivered yet. That meant I still got a free lunch. Hooray!

When the lunch arrived, I graciously stood back and let the jurors, many of whom were just taking their food and leaving, get their food first. In fact, I went back and sat down and talked to the judge about a case for a while. Then, when I figured they'd all gotten a chance, I went looking for my lunch.

The box that the food was delivered in was empty.

I checked my office, the front office, the judicial assistant's office... I was hoping that someone had merely set it aside for me. But no. One of the jurors belatedly informed me that they thought the lunch (marked bailiff!) had belonged to one of the jurors that had already left, so it had gotten sent off to the hospital with someone else.

A juror ate my damn lunch.

Now, I packed a lunch today. I didn't know I was going to be getting a free lunch. But a double-bologna-and-American-cheese-on-wheat-with-yellow-mustard sandwich just does not satisfy when you've had your heart set on french fries and a poor boy.

I honestly don't know why it bothers me so much, but I think, as I said before, it has to do with the value and rarity of a pre-prepared lunch in rural Alaska. I haven't eaten at a "fast-food" restaurant (such as the "Duct-Tape Eagle" or "Windmill Grille") for at least a month, perhaps two. It's hard to justify spending $20 for a mediocre take-out meal. But, man, was I looking forward to eating such a lunch on the court system's dime!

Sometimes you just can't win.