Off Topic · jail stories (page 1)

Here I will drop some jail stories for the enjoyment of my friends at UltimateKnicks, whom I cherish and love very much, each and every one of you rascals.

It is rare that a man of my stature takes a trip to the bing, the slammer, so I feel that my experience is unique. I doubt any of you upstanding citizens and ubersuccessful captains of industry and leaders in science have ever spent time behind bars, so this might be interesting, to see what it's all about.

I will just write whatever comes to mind. About situations, people, the food. Anything. Hope you dig it.

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My first day I walk into the van which takes us from courthouse to jail, just down the street, in khakis and a button shirt, brown shoes and a belt. My hair freshly cut, crispy; I was hoping for a postponement of my sentence. The judge deemed me too great a risk to the very distinguished society at large. Paterson, New Jersey, as graceful a city as any in the area. It would be a shame if I were allowed to run amok and spoil it's pristine streets for another month.

The van is full of inmates being bussed back from their court dates. All in the loose fitting dark green jail uniforms, all shackled at the feet and hands, sizing me up, some laughing, others too distracted or distraught from their court cases to even care.

I'm trembling, but determined not to show any outer signs of weakness; my hands are clenched into fists. My face is stern, my chin up, and an agitated look. "Look angry, like 'fuck the judge'", my lawyer tells me before I am taken away. And I follow those instructions faithfully. Someone asks me my name from the back of the van, I say it. The foreign name takes them aback;

I'll continue later! Oh man this brings back memories.

a bit of catharsis gfor you BLOB? hopefully you'll get into the charges and sentence length as well.

I'm very interested in reading more of your experiences bro.

OBM, what were you accused of?

How long were you imprisoned?

Here's a snip,

The gym on the roof of the jail is like something out of a movie, that was the thought going through my head when I stepped out, my first breath of fresh air in a month. Chain fence, 30 feet or so high, and chain fence to top it all off, too. No climbing over this mother. A bunch of Mexicans had tried it back in '89, before it had a ceiling, someone I easily forget tells me. They jumped down a construction chute, right to Main Ave., and got busted a few hours later, same day. Whatever.

There is a basketball court and a volleyball court, and a guard station where you first have to sign your name in a ledger; a long line forms. Everyone has to be signed in before you get the basketball. And there is only one for the 50 or 60 people up there that day. It's okay though, not everyone plays, most just want to sit at the periphery, get some fresh air, and talk to their people. Everyone has people in jail, a lot of people know each other from the streets, or know someone that knows someone, and so on. A lot of local folk, the type of people that a month or two at county is no big deal for. A part of life, to be expected in their trade, whatever the fuck they traffic in or abuse to excess; sometimes just a diehard aversion to lawful existence. Too many movies.

I'm the only white guy there even attempting to ball. My bunky, my cell mate, South, he gave me his old sneakers. But they lacked laces, so I had to rip apart a bed sheet and twist them up into makeshift laces. Caveman, a crafty old crack head who makes pens out of dorito's wrappers and his own razorblades out of AAA battery covers, helps me. He's cool with me. I'm one of the few inmates that doesn't fuck with him or laugh at him while he does his thing in the dayroom, not that he cares either way. I am good with everyone, respecting everyone, and in turn I am welcome at any table and any section of the day room. I have people watching the World Cup, albeit with sarcastic jeers and prodding, and they show enough respect not to bully me out of the tv and flip the channel. Everyone's human after all, and the people you meet in jail are some of the weakest and most down trodden you will ever come across. They try to cover up by spinning grand yarns, this exploit and that, but I know better. They're lost souls who don't know anything else, who just want to be normal, but they don't know how.

So the kicks are tight with bed sheet laces and a hole in the heel of the left foot. I'm up there, the game begins. ...

and I tell you about the game tomorrow.

This is some good stuff man. For background, can you elaborate on some of the last things you seen and heard before you went in. For instance, was Ill an Al Scratch blaring on the radio on the day of your sentencing?

A piece is a unit of currency, and a piece is a ramen noodle soup.

So you get a haircut, it's two pieces, which is two ramen noodle soups, any flavor, or one honey bun.

Honey buns are two pieces. If ramen noodles are the singles, the one dollar bills, honey buns are the benjamins, the 100$s, even though they are only double the value of a ramen noodle chicken soup.

Sometimes, some games, they're a honey bun buy-in, at least. But I never gambled. It's just not worth it getting hurt or getting scuffled over a fucking pastry. But if you're looking at a 5 flat, a 3 flat, maybe it is.

A flat, well, that's a sentence that you don't serve fully, but get out in half the time. Many prefer this over a 'drug court', which is a kind of intense probation.

I am too disjointed right now, but I thought it wise to keep this thread alive.

BigDaddyG wrote:This is some good stuff man. For background, can you elaborate on some of the last things you seen and heard before you went in. For instance, was Ill an Al Scratch blaring on the radio on the day of your sentencing?

No, I don't remember the last song. I was too fucking dazed to even think about music.

The last image I have in my mind is the passaic river as I drove up route 21 from Newark. I printed out something at NJIT to show the judge, because I wanted the sentence postponed a month.

Fucking gloomy day.

OBM, How long were you in?

Why were you sent there?

If you believe blobman went to jail then I have a bridge to sell you in Brooklyn.