"Did anyone recognize any of the names I read?" The judge, a Gary Sinise look-alike, asked.
Four hands raised amidst the faces and heads I could see. It was library-quiet and difficult to keep my growling stomach from loudly protesting the lack of nourishment. As each of the hand-raisers had a turn at describing the potential association with a particular witness, I noticed that I was not the only person in the room waging an all-out battle against boredom and drowsiness. No one seemed that particularly interested in the proceedings.
Finally, the judge came to a well-groomed, good looking younger gentlemen sitting in one of the bench rows to my left.
"Juror number twenty-seven. Did you recognize one or more of the names I read out?"
"Yes." The well-put man answered.
The man then proceeded to list off every doctor's name the judge had called out.
"And how do you know these doctors?"
"I work with them. And two of them are very close friends of mine." I noticed several of the courtroom's occupants look over at Juror 27.
"Do you feel like this could cloud your judgment should you be chosen to serve as a juror today?"
"With two of them, yes; I trust them implicitly."
The judge nodded. "And may I ask what you do for a living?"
"Certainly. I'm a plastic surgeon."
And just like that, the courtroom came alive as every woman in attendance collectively exclaimed, "Ooohhhh."