Previously, I
talked about what it felt like having a roommate from Hell.
If rule number one in prison is to never let anyone
disrespect you, then rule
number 2 is never let another inmate dictate your
schedule. Inmates attempt
it a lot. Today I was
annoyed several times. The first time
was when I went
to take a shower this morning, and because the showers are
attached to the
same area as the toilets, one of the women blew it up while
I was showering.
"Courtesy
flush!" I yelled.
Many of the new
women that came directly from home and never been locked
up is clueless as to what a courtesy flush is. Its something you learn in prison.
It is when you sit on the toilet to defecate and constantly
flush it as you use it.
It causes the smell to go down the drain, instead of sit
there and linger.
"I am not
finished yet!" The newbie said.
"Ms., Please!
What the heck did you eat! Please flush
the toilet!" I complained.
She did, once. The
bathroom smelled like a bottomless sewer, and the foulness
turned my stomach.
Women coming in have not been on the same prison diet
as me, and it is no telling what was causing the extremely
pungent smell.
"Its a
bathroom, Hello!" She screamed back, annoyed.
No she didn't have the
nerve and audacity to get an attitude!
She was trying to
kill me with toxic fumes.
She should have another felony charge for that!
So that is how my
morning began.
To try to restart
my day, I went to the track and walked got my five miles in.
The sky was cloudy and it looked like it was going to pour
rain over Danbury any
moment, but it held off until I finished walking.
I need to move on,
but let me just continue my rant about this toilet thing
for a moment. At
home, we all have the toilet in the same room with the shower.
It is standard all over the country. What is not standard is a stranger, coming
in and blowing the place up.
I do not understand how people get institutionalized.
I am annoyed at least once a day in here, and miss home
constantly.
Today, rule number
2 kicked in. I usually get up on Sunday,
shower, put on my
sweats, and then begin my day. Today was no different. My bunkie usually cleans
on Sunday, so I make a point to stay out of her way. She was up before me to do
her hair. She
retrieved the cleaning supplies at lunch time.
Each time I came to
the room, I disappeared to give her time to clean. At 3:22pm I went to the room
to do my hair and start preparing for work. She jumped up off the bed, and started
pulling the bins from up under the bed, and pulling stuff
out of the room.
"I am sorry
bunkie. I am about to clean." She said.
"Go
ahead. I am about to sit on the bed and
do my hair out of your way." I
answered.
That's exactly what I did.
I put my curtain up, and commenced to curling my hair
for the work week. I
even put my headphones on to block her and everyone else out.
This happens
often. I don't know if this occurs in a
men's prison, but women do it
repeatedly. Each time
its done to me, it makes me feel like they are attempting to
dictate my day. I was
expected to go back out of the room, after being gone all
day. Not! Prison life is about living with lots of strangers,
and some of them are
on some other stuff.
Back to
Arn-2- what I liked most about living in maximum security was that
most of the officers were afraid, and therefore there was
not all of the rules that
existed in general population. In general population, if you were caught
with out your
identification you received a shot/ticket. If you were not properly dressed and your
bed was not made up, you received a shot/ticket. The rules were petty, and
strictly enforced. I
noticed quickly that Arn-2 had no rules most of the time.
If you didn't feel
like getting up for work, you simply slept in.
Nobody was in
full uniform. The
common attire was house slippers and a doo rag or head rag wrapped
around your head. If
you didn't make your bed, or come out of your room, that was
your prerogative. The
unspoken rule was to leave max inmates alone if they left
staff alone, and they did most of the time. A few of the seasoned officers that
were not afraid to work in max informed new officers to relax
and not upset the
mood. Arn 2 inmates
stuck together, and turned up quick. If
an officer wanted
to enforce the rules and ask about beds being made and
uniforms not being worn,
they were called every curse word ever spoken, and some I'd
never heard before,
and then talked about bad.
"Your breast
is bigger than mines, shut up!"
Dino or someone else would yell
to a male officer with breasts.
Usually at least
one person ended up going to the SHU when one of the new
officers surfaced.
That would be the only way to keep the crowd from being
rowdy and calling the officer names.
There came a time
when there was a staff change. We got a
new unit
manager. His name was
Mr. Eleby. He was a Michael Jordan look
alike. I don't
know if he shaved his head on purpose to look more like
Jordan, but that didn't
help. Same
height. Same complexion. Same physique.
His mission was
to change Arn 2 inmates for the better, and to classify
inmates into there right status who should not have been in
max. He reminded
me of the Morgan Freeman character that was sent to the
terrible high school
in the inner city to try to change things. Mr. Eleby had a plan.
Rhonda Turpin
April 27, 2014
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