Jury Duty flashbacks

At around 8am I had a nightmare about jury duty.  I shit you not, folks.  I dreamt that I was stuck back in the jury box - we were forced to reconvene so that the lawyers could question us about our verdict so that they could do a better job during the jury selection process.  There were a couple of my fellow jurors there, but the lawyer was actually this person.  Random.

Yep, that's the woman from Top Chef that kept getting in fights because people thought her lesbian partner sucked and needed to be sent home.  And another Top Chef contestant was in the jury box. 

 Strangely enough, I dreamed about Lisa, aka Bitchface McGee.  She kept saying these inane comments about the case that were actually Metallica song lyrics and everyone thought she was so wise and would burst into applause.  Then she just started playing a boom box to get her point across, to even more adoration.  I began yelling, "Don't you see what she's doing? Why are we here?  Why are we here?!   You are a moron!  WHY ARE WE HERE?!!!!" 

Then I woke up.  Scary.  I guess that's what happens when you drink too much sake...

Now let's think about the good times of jury duty.

Langer's.

I went with two of my fellow jurors to this case because Juror #2 (the sardonic hedge fund manager) recommended it.  Upon hearing that it was our first time there, the waitress brought us a plate of pickles and a nice assortment of the popular meats - pastrami, corned beef, brisket - to sample.  Listening to droning lawyers and witnesses  all day makes you hungry, so we dove in with the gusto.

The pastrami was amazing so I went with that.  Wasn't disappointed at all.  It was scrumptious.  I got a side of cole slaw on the side and happily munched away.  The rye bread was a delight - super soft with a satisfying crunchy crust.  The pastrami was a spicy peppery salty tender blend of awesome.

After my meal, I preached the gospel of Langers to anyone who would listen.  Mr. Insomniac got tired of my rhapsodizing and forbade me to mention the word Langers for the rest of the evening.

Two days later, I was back.

This time, I got my cole slaw inside my sandwich.  That enabled me to streamline my movements so I could focus directly on the task at hand.  No bite of sandwich, bite of cole slaw, bite of sandwich crap.  When I bit into the sandwich, and I'm a little embarrassed to admit this, I was so happy that I teared up a bit.  It was like heaven.  I had to blink rapidly to maintain a sense of decorum.

I can honestly say that it was all worth it.  Even though I'm apparently suffering from PTSD and having strange dreams.  I believe I need to go back to Langer's for my cure.