Recieving and Orientation

It was a van full.  A few of the guys in the van were in the 120 shock program with me.  Seeing familiar faces was good news.  Roger was in the van too.  That means no more worries.  There was at least one guy with me who will have my back no matter what.  I was all pumped up for nothing back in the hole.  Almost all my fear was gone now.  Big white boy named Mark was there too.  With the three of us there wasn't going to be too much problem watching each other’s backs.  The three of us would have been a handful. 

I quickly found out that it is only the newer maximum security prisons with all the hard core security.  This medium security prison only had the high tech stuff at the main gate.  R&O was nothing more than a big house converted to hold over forty inmates.  The first floor was a big open room with a desk off to the left side.  The rest of the room was four long picnic tables.  All over twelve feet long.  At the back of the room on the right were stairs that went down to the bathrooms and showers.  Upstairs was another large open room crammed full with bunks. 

It was almost exactly like when I went to the 120 shock program; I went from being alone in the hole to being in constant proximity with a large group of people instantly.  It’s true I had a celly this last time, but still I went from one person to over forty, 24/7.  For over thirty days, every day, all day, I was cooped up in that room with over forty other inmates.  Everyone was being sized up by the guards, our profiles from FRDC were being reviewed to figure out which housing units we were to go to.  Someone leaves to go home, someone else takes his spot.  Human farming.  Like cattle going through the shoot.

This was the first time I had to deal with inner city blacks up close and personal.  Like literally, right in my face.  Over half the room was blacks from either St. Louis or Kansas City, mostly St. Louis, with only a few here and there from small towns.  The gangsters let the small town blacks know what’s up right off the get.  In the hierarchy of things they were practically white people.  No question about the complete difference in cultures.  The only thing we all shared in common was the hyper masculinization, so in a certain way we all spoke the same language.  I won't lie though it took me a few days to figure out what they were saying half the time.  Some were always hard to understand, even after years of being in there. 

You had to be careful about going to the bathroom.  If the guards were not down there, you didn't go down there alone.  Without someone else who had your back it was a dangerous place to be.  They couldn’t just say they had your back either; they had to be guys who were actually capable of doing it.  It got sketchy down there.  The first time I went down there and over eight guys were fighting I learned my lesson.  I stayed tight with my peeps.  More than a few times we were all lined up to have our hands checked.  Every time someone got rolled hard in the basement we had to have our hands checked. 

I was keeping to myself mostly.  Didn’t play games much, or bullshit much.  I didn’t even really want people knowing Roger and I were tight.  It’s a huge advantage having those kinds of secrets.  I didn't want the blacks or the cops taking notice of me at all, but that just wasn't in the cards for me.  It didn’t take long.  Sitting at the back of the room, this dude they called Rock tells me I better talk to my boy.  I was looking at him wondering who my boy was, so I said, "Who’s my boy?  I don't have any boys." 

He just kind of smirked at me like I thought he was dumb or something.  I always talked to them smart ass just like they talked to me.  Wasn't going to be any of that racist shit with me.  If I can’t talk to them crazy because their skin is black they aren’t going to talk to me crazy because my skin is white.  A gangster without a gun isn't much of a gangster anymore.  Not to me anyways.  Any douche bag can be tough with a gun.  In Booneville the blacks had the superior numbers, they had gangs, they had structured social networks, they had the power; they knew it.  My life has definitely been about hard lessons.  I was about to learn the hard way what it is like to be a minority.  I must have been a real dick in my previous life.  I was enrolled in Hard Knocks 7502 now.  I’m now in advanced accelerated courses. 

The Rock started coming to me with shit like I was the leader of the white people or something. Even when I kept my head down, people gravitated to me.  That Rock guy turned out to actually be a decent guy.  He was trying to keep some white dude from getting rolled down stairs.  Said it wasn't right what they were doing.  I made sure the white boy didn't get worked over.  Rock went to Six House.  The biggest house, and it was on upper hill.  It was the house where mostly non gang related blacks went, same with whites.  There weren’t any super aggressive personalities in there.  It was the only house that was actually even racially.  My problem though, was that it wasn't just the Rock who noticed what was going on.  Even though I never really wanted it to happen, the cops noticed it too, the way the gangsters gave me space.  No other way to explain it.

The prison was divided into four parts.  There was lower hill and upper hill, the yard and the maintenance quad.  All the admin buildings were on upper hill.  Lower hill was the hood.  It was basically a short cul-de-sac with five big houses spread out around the street.  All but Five House had a drive way that went up to the right side of the house with a side walk to the front door.  There were over five hundred inner city gangsters on lower hill.  Five House was the first house on the left.  It was different than the others.  It had four bays, two on each side with the control bay in the middle.  Fifty inmates to a bay.  It was a new housing unit. 

Houses One through Four were older and held a little over ninety inmates each.  The houses were built kind of like a cross if you were looking directly down on it.  The three short arms were big rooms with bunks down the two long walls.  There was a short room along the hall that held six bunks, and on the other side of the hall were the bathrooms and showers.  These bunks were coveted because the small room was much more quiet and peaceful.  The bathroom was in plain view of the guards desk from in the middle.  At the end of the long hall, straight down from the guards desk was the rec room with a TV and tables and chairs. Just as you come in the front door, that's where the case workers office is with the hall going off to your right and left. 

Lower hill was straight up a ghetto.  Upper hill was the Ritz.  Lower hill was almost entirely black.  Upper hill was a little over half white.  Almost all of the whites were on upper hill and they still were barely the majority.  On lower hill only Four House wasn't completely ghetto.  It was for the chow hall employees.  They got their own housing unit.  Each bay was a different shift.  Those cats were always pale.  They always looked like shit.  I never wanted to work in that chow hall.  It’s bad enough I had to eat that crap. You had to have a certain personality to work there anyways.  I don't take orders well. 

It was a trait the prison staff followed until I left there.  There were not many whites like me in there.  I was like a pawn in their chess game.  A knight maybe, or a rook.  It wasn't like I had a choice in the matter.  They were always putting me where there weren't many white people.  Like an aggressive chess player, without any hesitation, they put me into play.  Unlike me they really didn't have much to lose.   

Every day it was like a lottery or something.  Everyone talked about it and made predictions. It was a daily routine.  Who would get called today?  Which housing unit would they go to?  No one liked being in R&O.  None of us white guys wanted to go to lower hill.  The guy who drove the getaway car was in R&O with us too, he got lucky and rolled Six House.  He was going to be okay.  Roger and I were greatly relieved.  I don't remember what Roger rolled, but I remember very well where I got sent.

They decided I should go to Two House.  There were less than ten white people in Two House.  Another white boy got Three House same day as me.  He wasn't nearly as big as me though.  We called him Trip.  He ate too much acid once and forever after had this wild look in his eyes like he was still tripping.  He couldn't always finish his sentences.  It was like years later and he was still coming down.  He was a good guy though.  We walked down the hill together, talking each other up.  Reassuring each other.  No longer being maximum security we were allowed to walk without an escort.  Without cuffs.  That was a weird feeling of freedom.  It's amazing feeling freedom while in prison.  It's a different world.  The guards used short wave radios to keep each other in the know, so the ones at the housing units knew we were coming.  We quickly had to build as much courage as we could.  It’s not even an eighth of a mile. It was about to get real.  It is a given that we will be tested. 

Almost one hundred inmates and there is rarely ever more than one guard there at a time.  There will be two during shift change for about fifteen minutes.  They don't want to be there anymore than we do.  During the day, through the week, there is a case worker and an assistant case worker in the office busy punishing those who are already being punished.  It was like a fucking circus in there.  It was a mad house.  Loud, always loud, dudes yelling to each other for all kinds of different reasons.  Cats walking around everywhere, talking slang, running their mouths, shouting about something to someone, somewhere.  Mother fuckers always trying to get away with shit.  There were no noise restrictions in Two House like there was in R&O.  Cacophony.  I got the stink eye from every black that laid eyes on me walking through for the first time.  Holy shit I was out numbered.  Holy shit there was only one guard.  He led me down the hall showing me what was what while explaining his expectations.  He almost seemed happy to see me.  I got put in the bay that would be at the top of the cross.  B Bay.  It's a smaller bay with only twenty inmates.  Five bunks on each side.  Just happens that I was the only white guy in the bay.  I felt like the sole pawn that just got moved to the other side of the board with no support. 

New guys get top bunks.  Top bunk means your locker is out at the end of the bunk.  Top bunk means you don't have anywhere to sit except for on your own bunk, or on top of your locker.  The only other place to sit is in the rec room down at the end of the hall and that is a no go.  I don't know the rules.  One wrong move in there, one wrong word, and its game over.  It's that new world thing.  My environment is completely different even though I was just up the hill moments ago.  The dude in the next bunk over from mine on the bottom had a problem with me stepping in his area to get up on my bunk.  I hopped back down onto the floor with my back to the room.  I didn’t want to be trapped between the bunks, so he's standing between the bunks explaining to me that I owe him money for stepping in his area.

I couldn't tell if people were creeping up behind me or not.  I was intently focused on the guy in front of me.  In my head I had nothing to lose.  All I would have to say to the cops is that there were four or five of them on me and this guy didn't make it.  It was the one power I had that they didn't have; if I got hurt they got into trouble, but if they got hurt it's on them.  Being the only white guy in the room I won't be getting into any trouble if a black guy comes up maimed.  I was going to let it all out on this dude right in front of me, I just needed him to give me a reason to set it free.  I was shaking from the adrenaline.  The rage in me wanted a target to unleash on.  I just looked at him and told him I wouldn't be paying him anything.  I was just getting on my bunk.  He kept running his mouth, so I just told him to do what he had to do, and just stood there staring at him.

He backed down.  Told me to let him by, mumbling something about a big ass white boy, brushing past me, running his mouth as he went out of the bay.  I never liked this guy.  Dude was there almost the entire time I was.  Never liked him.  Always running his mouth.  He never got a dime out of me, but I did get up on my bunk from the other side after that to avoid dealing with him.  I passed the first test, so it made no sense going to the hole.  Even though he was running his mouth I had to let it go.  He could be in a powerful gang.  He could be going to get his boys.  I knew the second they said Two House I wouldn't be sleeping that night.  I just laid in my bunk all night with my boots on waiting for the call for breakfast.  It made me happy to realize I no longer had to wake up for breakfast if I didn't want to.  I didn't even have to go to breakfast if I didn't want to.  I felt better knowing now at least I had some choices.

Compared to what I had been going through, there was a great deal more freedom being alone in a room full of people.  Over the next couple of weeks I got to know a few other people in the house.  I found out that if you asked the guard for permission you could go into the other bays.  I had to be careful though because everyone is always sizing everyone else up, all the time, 24/7.  Associating with the wrong person can bring consequences.  There is no relaxing.  They themselves did not relax so I knew being the white spot in the room I had to watch my back constantly.  There was no one to give me a heads up if someone was plotting on me.  I wasn't going to get any kind of warning.  I mostly read books, stayed to myself, and went to church.

I actually had access to somewhat of a library now.  My book reading went into over drive.  I could request books they didn't have.  It was amazing.  There really wasn't much else to do.  I could tune out the gangster symphony if my mind was in a book. 

They don't let you out of the house much if it's dark outside, so during the times of the year when that is the case, church is the only way out of the house in the evenings.  Guards provide an escort for church.  In the summer everyone goes out on the yard, but in winter it is church or stay locked down in the ghetto.  That really isn't an option.  I hated god at this time in my life almost as much as I did the woman who gave birth to me, and I still thought sitting in church was better than sitting in the ghetto.