Civic Duty, 1.

Seat 25A, back of the plane, after spying from my window the crown jewels of the Cascade range.

Consecutive Sundays have been spent on an Alaska Airlines flight between Seattle and Los Angeles. Whereas I was returning to Seattle from what I like to call an “LA Weekend,” last week … this week, I’m flying to LA for a (very) brief trip. A trip with a purpose.

Tomorrow, after I will have spent some time @ the beach and have dined on some of my favorite cuisine with good friends the night before (this night, the one directly ahead of me)… I will be testifying in court, in trial (none of that pre-trial child’s play), the big leagues. Before a jury, as a victim.

The Beverly Hills D.A. is flying me out, not because of my sterling personality but rather to bolster their case to convict a man on this third strike. Life, folks. We’re talking life for the man who mugged me (and some others) some 18 months ago.

Do I want to do this? Be there, all sworn in and shit and testify, moving toward an end result of placing someone in jail for the rest of their waking life? No. No, I do not.

But I am. Civic duty, it’s a bitch.