The hole again.

Still no cell mate.  The view out of my thin window was pointless.  I was on the first floor this time, but even if I somehow could break the glass I still wouldn’t have been able to fit through the hole.  I doubt the air would have even been fresh.  Nothing in view but flat grass covered ground with a double strand of fifteen foot high chain link fence, triple roll snag wire atop each, and nothing but bare ground in between.  You can see the sensor line running through the fence.  In the center of the prison is a tower like what you would see at an airport.  It's out of view to the right of my window.  I was told that there is an armed .30-06 in there hoping someone makes it over the fence.  It's all kind of silly really because there is absolutely no way out of that cell, much less out of the building.  Getting through three rolls of snag wire alone would use up all of one’s luck in life, but six?  There is no way out without outside help, and you would need lots of it. 

I was depressed.  I slept for days at a time.  Got to where I could wake up from dreams, eat, then go right back into them.  I would wake up when the food would come through the slot in the door.  Three times a day, every day, without fail, the clank and slamming of the door slots could be heard going down the line.  Thirty minutes later slamming closed all the way down the line.  It's never quiet, yet I could control things in my dreams I slept so much.  There was nothing else to do.  I could only pace so much.  My choice of books was absolutely terrible.  I could only talk to myself so much.  I was just going to try to sleep through it all.  I decided that I was just going to be lost in dreams until it was over.  If I could control my dreams I could turn a living nightmare into anything I wanted. 

I felt certain I was going to Booneville.  It was just a waiting game.  For security reasons they don't tell you where you are going until a week or so ahead of time, if you’re lucky.  They never say when they are moving you, they just show up at your cell and off you go.  That’s exactly how it happened, one day my door clicked, and started sliding open.  A guard appeared at the door and told me to pack up my stuff.  Crowding issues, they needed the cell.  I was told I was going to have a cell mate.  He took me to a different cell block in the same housing unit, and just like that I had a cell mate. 

It's an interesting phenomenon in prison.  Every time I would change locations it was like going to a completely different world even though the physical surroundings were always practically identical.  Even though it was always those same cinder blocks, that same plain beige color everywhere, always concrete floors, everything dirty, everything locked down and secure, the environments were never the same.  In an instant I was in a totally different world.

My cell mate was the guy who got to be out of his cell the most, to clean, and run errands.  He got certain privileges.  He was a calm dude.  I’m sure that because he was getting out so soon it made it much less likely that he would mess with me.  He was smaller than me.  He reminded me of a Smokey and the Bandit kinda guy with that kind of 70’s haircut.  The way he smoked and told stories.  Dukes of Hazard kinda guy.  He too was raised in a small Midwestern town like me.  Those towns are all the same no matter where you go.  He was in there for drinking and driving or petty theft, or something like that.  He was the kind of guy blacks would pick on.  That's probably why he was in the hole.  I don't know for sure because he would never have admitted to something like that.  I sure the hell didn't admit I was in there because the woman who gave birth to me was a cop. 

I was just glad to be a little less alone.  I now had someone to talk to besides myself.  He got to where he hated his job because one of the dudes in a different cell was nasty.  Straight up disgusting.  Sometimes he would be belligerent for hours on end.  Screaming, not making any sense.  It echoes through the whole cell block.  He would shit and piss in his cell.  Shit on food trays and kick them out the slot.  It was whack, and he was the one the guards had clean it up. Sometimes he would be quiet for days at a time, and we felt lucky.  No one knew what was going on in that guys cell. I don't think anyone wanted to know.  The guards were safe and sound up in their control room.  They didn’t care at all if we were up all night because of a madman. 

All and all those big cell blocks were kind of eerie.  Before having a cell mate I was always the only one out in the bay.  The shower was super sketchy; it was a long corridor kind of room with a single shower head at the end.  Even being out in the bay with over fifty other dudes caged in, not knowing who was watching you, it was strange.  Sometimes they would open your door and you would have to walk over to the mic to find out what they wanted because they didn’t want to walk to your cell.  The first time they did that to me I thought I was hallucinating.  Thought I was hearing shit.  My door just slid open and some strange voice was mumbling.  Thought for sure I was dreaming.

Because my celly got to be out of the cell all the time he knew some of the people in a lot of the other cells.  Technically he wasn’t supposed to talk to any of them, or pass things, but they did it anyways.  He had to be sneaky.  He was always talking to others by yelling out the door at the right times.  This really helped me feel some kind of connection with others.  Helped me learn how it works in prison.  He was always bartering and trading different stuff with others.  It was something he loved to do. 

In there the smallest things can make your day. Once we both got violations for making a homemade stinger so we could warm up water.  Hot water is a big luxury in there.  A guard was outside the window and saw us.  We knew we had been busted when we heard the door sliding open later in the evening.  They had the violations written up and ready to go.  They tossed the room down and got all the contraband.  Oh well.  What were they going to do?  Throw us in the hole?

While I was waiting to go to prison for an indeterminate amount of time he was about ready to get out.  His prison experience really helped me out.  Those guards had really freaked me out in Farmington, but my cell mate wasn't a dick, so I trusted his word over theirs.  He affirmed that as long as I didn’t mess with anyone else, minded my business, and stood my ground that I would be just fine.  I knew I had that in me. 

I can't say me and that guy were really ever friends or anything.  We were just forced to spend time together in a cell.  We were nice to each other because we were just decent people.  We invented ways to pass the time, told stories, shared our dreams, talked about our families and girlfriends.  We talked a lot about what we would do when we were out.  It may sound corny but there really isn't anything else to do.  It's like having a brother in a weird kind of way.  I don't even remember the dude’s name.  He ended up being the guy who kept me from being all alone for what would have been long months. He helped me out big in life and didn’t even know it.  Life is crazy.  

I got what I needed most; a cell mate that had firsthand experience of being in prison.  Thanks to this I half way knew what was coming next.  I'd already been working out in my cell.  I'm not afraid to fight. Soon something else good came my way, and I was ready.  I didn’t have to wait six months before I got the news.  It only took a little over four.  I was indeed going to Booneville.  They called Booneville the Thunder Dome; Gladiator School.  In Booneville you don’t have to worry about being stabbed or killed; you just have to be willing to fight.  That had my name written all over it.  It was like I was going home, but this time I was prepared to stick up for myself. I wasn’t a little boy that could just be picked on anymore.  If someone gave me reason I was going to let them have it all.