If you have been reading my blog for very long, it should be clear to you that I am a people person. I live to serve my fellow man (nolo homo), and woman. I asked myself, what wisdom do I have to depart, that might in some small way help someone in need. I took a personal inventory. I am a 3 time divorced, convicted federal offender, living with 2 dogs, and 2 puppies in my bedroom closet. Okay ,a how to be a success by 40 seminar is out. I cant give any tips on how to get away with crime. Moral and ethical issues aside, I still haven't figured out that part myself. Then it hit me! Prison for Dummies.
With the ever increasing government infringement on privacy, you dear reader are but one faulty mouse click away from stumbling on to some illegal website, or a couple of errors in judgement , pick your poison, and the next thing you know you are on a school bus with wire mesh on the windows.
I will be covering the entire process, from the county lock up to the day you get paroled. From bright orange jumpsuits to ill fitting khakis and cardboard shoes. It's going to be the next best thing to actually being there. So strap a couple of phone books around your midsection, sharpen your toothbrush and don't make eye contact. Here we go.
I remand you to the Bureau of Prisons for 64 months
You are standing before the bench one minute, a little hungover from the night before. You knew this day was coming , but you aren't really prepared for the reality of the moment. Before you get your head around it, a U.S. Marshall in a navy blazer that reminds you of a movie usher, gives your elbow a squeeze and herds you through a door out of the courtroom. You go down a long hall, through a couple of doors that require the usher to punch in a code. Your escort opens a door that looks like a closet but is actually a holding cell, you sit for 3 hours.
Pretty boring so far, Huh? Boring is an oft repeated theme in the joint, so get used to it. Eventually one of the Marshals shows up, leads you down another hall and into a waiting van. After a short ride to Leavenworth Kansas, you arrive at CCA, the privately owned contractor who houses newly charged or convicted federal offenders. I wont spend any time on CC. It is a boring uneventful place. At CCA you wait, period.
One morning at about 3 or so, the lights in your cell will wake you up while simultaneously blinding you. There will be a couple of turn keys telling you to pack your bags, you are transferring out. You might take a bus or a plane. I took a bus, so that's how we are going today. Imagine a gray church bus with hard plastic seats, an eye bolt in the floor and mesh over the windows, and you have a picture of the prison bus. What is more insufferable than the bus , is the BOX. The box is a black metal sleeve that fits over handcuffs to transform them in to devices of torture. Im not shitting you, they hurt, and if you wear them for 9 or 10 hours, you may never use your hands again. The black box makes water boarding look like a relaxation technique. Okay, maybe it's not that bad, but it's pretty bad just the same.
So there you sit, staring out the window, not because there is anything worth looking at, but to avoid directly facing the fat guy sitting next to you. A guy so fat if he cut himself shaving , he would bleed gravy. Your travel companion exhales when he talks, and his breath smells like he has been eating shit sandwiches without the bread. You begin to question just how accurate your attorney was when he told you that you would go to a camp, Club Fed ! It almost had a nice ring to it, Camp. In a few hours you will discover that the term Camp just means prison. Camp brings to mind log cabins and making lanyards. Three twelve foot fences ensconced in razor wire does not look like a Camp. But that's what they call it. Welcome , you have just arrived ,U S P , Rochester Minnesota.
To Be Continued................................
