Comedy in the...Courtroom?

Countless studies have been done about the effect laughing has on our well-being. I've heard that if taken part in frequently, it can: lengthen the span of one's life, decrease physical pain, alleviate stress, and even harnessed as an effective therapy. Thus, we should strive to laugh as often and as whole-heartedly as possible.

With this in mind I pose a question: when stifling laughter due to necessity, do these wonderful byproducts of laughter disappear? Or worse, do they backfire and cause anguish? There is no way I can recall the number of times I've wanted to laugh at an entirely inappropriate time, and have been forced to swallow my ha's in fear of being labeled disrespectful or immature. One of those times happened today...

For the last couple of days I have been serving my first term as a juror, excorcising my civic responsibility as we patriots tend to do. Whilst in this capacity I found myself in quite an interesting setting. There I sat in the juror's box, my five juror colleagues to my left. We were situated in such a way as to see the entire courtroom and all of its players, so invariably said players could also observe us. Now this case had some very special circumstances. It involved a car accident in which an El Salvadorian woman's car was struck. But their is a kicker: she spoke less English than a newborn Afghan. To rectify this issue, the court and the judge brought in an interpreter who was equipped with a microphone. The Plaintiff (El Salvadorian) was equipped with a headset - and thus through the miracle of translation she could comprehend the entire proceeding. Quite nice. When it came time for her testimony, which she gave entirely in Spanish and the interpreter then translated for us, we soon noticed that she either had some communication issues or was incredibly nervous (or both). She would often stutter, sputter quick utterances, and change the inflection of her voice for emphasis. What was most excellent for those bearing witness was the precise way in which the translator HAD TO translate. For the record, he was forced to mimick her spoken word exactly. So imagine if you can a two-hundred pound man saying, "yes, um, there was pain all over the right side of my body. Oh yes, my... my lady parts were pulsating!" I think it is safe to conclude in this circumstance that she went pulsating as throbbing, like a bad headache. But he said it, just the way she did. Gradually growing to a crecendo unitl the phrase "lady parts were pulsating" was almost at a yell.

And this was just one occasion of the missteps in translation... their were many. Their were also those moments just after such things were said, where you'd catch the faint glimmer in the eye of a fellow juror that exposed them as feeling just the way you were, and becoming more and more unhealthy by stifling waves of laughter.

All jokes aside, I thought that being a juror was an incredible experience. It was fascinating to hear the same evidence spun by three different attorneys to fit the needs of their respective clients. And the verdict deliberation, which lasted at least two entire hours, was a murky haze of frustration, excitement, disagreement, and accord; but through it all we understood that the outcome of our decision would have serious affects on the lives of the parties, and so we did not take our task lightly. After exorcising this right I feel greater respect for our justice system as a whole and the amazing minds responsible for its creation.

Finally I would like to conclude this post with an obituary... Beloved Ritter Sport Cocos chocolate bar. You have passed away far too soon. Why the bigwigs at Ritter decided to pull the plug so early in the life of such a fantastic treat will never be fully comprehended. I will miss you terribly with my only consolation being each hour spent here on Earth is another hour I get closer to again indulging on your deliciousness. Until then, RIP.