Ten Twenty Nine Oh One - Part 2

Part 1

They left us in our cells for awhile. If there's anything you learn in jail, it's patience. Needless to say, I couldn't count how many hours I've wasted sitting in a cell, waiting for guards to finish my paperwork and usher me along to the next step

(cell)

where they'll keep me for more innumerous hours. Your eyes just dim. Have you ever felt like you were SO bored, that you couldn't be any more bored? Yeah try that times a quadrimillion. I never knew the meaning of boredom until then.

Literally. Nothing. To. Do.

Finally they came to get us. I've always been skinny (bony?), and yeah it'd be nice to have a little more meat on my bones but hey it was never that big of a deal. Until tonight. After strip searching us, they took away our shoe laces, belts, and anything else we could hang ourselves with or attack someone else with.

Problem? The pants didn't belong to me, and were about three inches too big for me. Next problem? They cuffed me so tight it kept grinding against my wrist bone, chaffing skin and bruising.

Wincing, what else am I to do? Complain? Ha. Haha. Funny. Not really.

And never two without three (especially when it comes to more problems), hands cuffed painfully behind my back, I'm struggling to pull my pants up as they walk me out to a van. I shuffle my way there, handcuffs attached to ankle cuffs.

Now, I'm not sure how many people can relate to what I'm about to say next, but I'm pretty sure you've all experienced that dawn of realization moment, where either your eyes are opened wide and you can now see the clearly painted blue sky, or the dawn brought about a scene so gruesome that you couldn't shut your eyes hard enough to escape it.

My skies weren't blue. Lined up along a wall, about eight of us cuffed and chained, they took count. This is nothing new to us though. We've seen these scenes hundreds of times in movies, main or side character getting arrested, locked up, etc. Yeah. That's the point. In movies.

That's when my dawn

(apocalypse...)

came and I knew I fucked up. I fucked up bad. There was no lying my way out of this, there was no running, there was no escape, there were no drugs. Just stark, merciless reality. And cold metal cuffs.

The van ride was depressing. They drove us to MCC (Metropolitan Correctional Center), which is a pretrial and holdover prison in Chinatown, right by Columbus Park.

They lined us up along a wall, facing it, and called each of our names.

"Haydee!"

No answer. Haydee? A girl? I didn't see any female inmates here and either way that's just not possible.

"Haydee! Haydee!"

My name's been mispronounced a lot, but that was the worst. I finally reacted.

"What, you don't even know your own name?" one of the guards chuckled.

"If you could fucking pronounce it properly maybe I would," I replied.

Lol yeah okay, I'm just kidding. I said nothing lol.

And another cell. This one was cold though. None of us were separated, close to ten of us trying to find a warm and somewhat comfortable spot on the hard benches.

Let me fast forward a little. I think you all got the point that it's as boring as staring at the same spot on a wall hoping you can will it to move with your mind alone just so that something changes in the scenery.

The next day they separated us by groups, I was put in a two-man cell with Steve. I never quite understood why solitary was called "solitary" when it's really a two-man cell.

They clothed me after stripping me (again... I sometimes wondered if they found enjoyment in our humiliation) but everything they had was 4XL or bigger. I kid you not, my tighty-whiteys could be wrapped around me a couple times and knotted.

A bunk bed. A sink. A toilet. A sad excuse for a desk/chair combination. And lots of cockroaches. A lot of inmates sleep with earplugs, not to block out sound (there's really not too much noise once lights are out), but because roaches crawl into your earlobe while you're sleeping and lay their eggs there.

The unsuspecting host goes about their days until the eggs hatch. I forgot what exactly happened to the host (it didn't kill them) but I'm sure it wasn't pretty.

And I had no earplugs. FML.

Fortunately I never had a bug hatch in my ear since so I think it's safe to say I escaped unscathed. Unfortunately, they didn't even let me shower for four days (I never got to leave the cell), so birdbaths in the sink made due.

I think they served food around 5am, 11am, and 6pm. From 6pm to 5am, nothing. And after each meal, I felt like I didn't even eat yet.

Staring out of barred windows, I caught a glimpse of Columbus Park. My mind played tricks on me making me think I could smell Chinese food. Fuck I was starving.

A psychiatrist came by the door to talk to me.

"Do you understand me?"

"Yeah."

"Are you feeling okay?"

"Yeah."

"You're not hearing voices or... seeing hallucinations or anything?"

"Uhh... no?"

"No suicidal thoughts?"

What the fuck.

"No."

He glanced at me and his eyes said that he didn't quite believe me but he also didn't give a flying fuck because he was on the other side of that door and was getting paid regardless if I was lying or not.

That was the only interaction we had with the guards there besides getting our food.

Steve and I did what we could to pass the time. And it's sad when, the person who ratted you out, is the only person that you have right then and there. He tried to stay positive, talking about bail, mentioning that his family had some cops in it...

"I doubt I'm making bail," I said.

"Why not?"

"My mom always told me, she can deal with follies, she understands we all go through those phases, but there are two things that she won't be able to help me with: one, if I got involved with drugs, and two, the law.

This is both. She's dealt with enough of my shit, this is it, I really doubt I'm going to make bail."

Four days later, I met my lawyer. In his fifties, he seemed nice enough. Basically, I was screwed because of the written statements Steve and Jules made.

"I'm working on getting you out on bail, but the USDA must have sensed more money in your family, because she set the bail really high."

"How high?"

"$500,000."

My heart crawled through its own artery to shrivel up and die.

"What??"

I later learned that Steve and Jules' bail was about $30,000 and $24,000 respectively, and we had to post up 10% of it. My lawyer managed to negotiate mine down to $50,000.

Either way, it was a moot point, I wasn't making bail.

On the day I was to appear in court to see if I made bail, I felt like the poor kid on Christmas, watching everyone open up presents, but thinking Santa forgot about me.

I walked into the courtroom and witnessed the power of a mother's love for her child with my very own eyes. Of course she was there, a look of utter disappointment and worry etched all over her face, but she was there nonetheless.

The court proceeded, and I actually made bail.

"Okay, so you made bail, the conditions are as follow," my lawyer says. "You can't leave the city, you can't fail a drug test, miss a meeting with your pretrial officer, or get in trouble in any other fashion, if not you'll be remanded, sent straight to jail, and your parents will be liable for the full $50,000."

I nodded. "Wait but, what if I fail my first drug test, because I still have it in my system?"

"Well that won't be the case, you came out negative for everything."

I blinked a few times. Then a few more times.

"What? That's impossible."

He shrugged. "If it ain't broke, don't fix it."

I left 500 Pearl Street in an orange jumpsuit, fiending for a cigarette, but so ashamed I couldn't even look my mother in the eye.

Blood is thicker than water. Sometimes. But the unconditional love of a mother can never be replaced, and if genuine, should never be doubted. At least that's what I learned from my mother.

I hope you feel the same way about yours.