So I do this weird thing whenever I am stuck in places with people. I always assess the room to see where we would stand in a zombie invasion. Or other world disaster. But really . . . a zombie invasion.
You know what I mean: on a airplane, in an elevator, or as was the case this week, in a jury room. I look for the following things:
1. Who will be the leader?
2. Who will be the angry man that thought he should be the leader and will continue to hold a grudge about it, perhaps foiling a plan later, or even (gasp!) breaking off and creating his sub-group?
3. The lady that you know is going to freak out and need to be shaken into action.
4. The people that will be kind of nameless, faceless people, but are still necessary to get shit done.
5. The guy I would be most likely to have sex with if forced to repopulate the world.
6. The guy I would NOT have sex with even if repopulating the world were at stake.
7. The quiet computer nerd, data cruncher type person that will have an answer to a problem we had previously thought was unable to be solved.
8. The kind of guy that carries a pocketknife, because that’s the guy I want to buddy up with.
9. Anyone else that would be cool to hang with, because there will be a lot of extra time on our hands.
10. And this is important: the kind of people that know that the only way to kill a zombie is by severing its spinal cord, ie. blowing off its head. You would be surprised how many people don’t know this.
I think this whole scenario building comes from two things. First, when I was growing up we moved every year, sometimes more often. My dad was a super for a granite company so we went from city to city so that he could build high rises. I became an expert at sizing up the room when I walked into it. By fourth grade I was able to walk into a room and identify the popular girl, the cute boy, the smart kids, and the kids you did not want to be seen with. I mean, it was crucial to survival to know these things.
The second thing is, if it isn’t obvious from the cliches my list, I watch a LOT of movies.
So anyway. Last week and part of this week I had jury duty. The first day was the day where all 250 people report and then get locked in a huge room with no newspapers to wait and see if they will be called for the jury selection process. These people are an even, fair representation of your community. And that, my friends, IS TERRIFYING.
One man called his wife to ask her how to shut of his cell phone. He was just SHOUTING and finally said forget it, hung up on her, and ripped out the battery.
Another man was covered in dirt, I mean super dirty, with unwashed hair and a yellowed shirt, and he kept saying over and over again: I shouldn’t be here, I’m from the country. YOU DON’T SAY.*
There was a lady that hummed the whole day.**
The lady who acted above everyone but had a cheap purse and press-on nails. Not fooling me lady, I’ve got my own Target purse over here. And there is never an excuse for press-on nails.
There was the dude that wouldn’t stop talking. To everyone. Loudly.
There was the guy giving people advice on mortgages. Whether or not he was in the industry is doubtful.
There was a bag lady who had the dirtiest fingernails I’ve ever seen on another person. They were thick, and crusty. And she started picking them and flicking it (my throat constricts just thinking about it) and I had to get up and move.
There was a perpetually confused lady. You know the people that repeat everything? They know what is going on, but it’s like in order to process it they have to say it out loud? Yeah, her.
My basic assessment: If there was a zombie outbreak right now we would be fucked. To the hizzle.
Sadly, I only saw one other person that I thought would even know what to do when faced with a zombie. I saw a few potential leaders, but considering I ended up being the jury foreman I felt like I would have been tasked with saving the world as well.
There were several dudes that looked like they carried a pocketknife, but only two that looked like they did so because they were handy. The others . . . well, they will cut you.
The “mortgage guy” was clearly the person that was going think he should be the leader and screw up everything.
And then, sadly, I came to the repopulating the earth thing and had the realization that if in fact zombies strike or there is a pandemic or a terrorist attack and I am a survivor my uterus is totally not going to save us.
Like infertility isn’t devastating enough, now I have to reconcile the fact that I’m one of the background people in the saving the world scenario.
What a bummer.
*Please don’t take offense if you live the country. I lived in the country too, it’s how I’m able to identify this dude.
**If you hum all the time, please knock it the fuck off. Seriously. I mean, hum your brains out at home, in the car, in the shower. Go for it! Just don’t do it in public, when people are trapped with you. It’s dreadful.