I had to spend the first 48 hours in jail before I got my five days of work release. I was so exhausted that first night that the second day I slept until 1 PM, even though it was over a hundred degrees, and when I woke up it looked like I had just run a marathon. If I put white rocks and a little castle down my pants, my balls could support sea monkeys and a goldfish. Additionally, I've already developed an intense hatred for the douchebag who sleeps on the bunk below me. Throughout the night he will either toss and turn or masturbate violently - I'm reluctant to find out which - shaking both of our bunks. I've spent the vast majority of my time thinking of how to kill him, since the only things to do during the day besides walk around and not look at anyone is either take a nap, or find somewhere nice to doze off for a bit. You can't watch TV unless you enjoy watching Everyone Loves Raymond in Spanish, because the TV tent is controlled by a Mexican Gang.

Do you know what the basic common denominator in everywhere I travel is? Gambling, and the prison yard is no exception. At this rate, you can add another couple hundred dollars to my jail expenses because every night I've lost my shirt to a fine group of Chicanos. They're cool and funny, and thoroughly enjoy taking my money. The second night I was in, a white kid came up to the poker table and looked at me and another white kid and said, "Yo, there's a Woods meeting in the back in ten minutes." I politely declined having no idea what the fuck he was talking about, and the other kid at the table told me that the Woods were the White Supremist gang of the prison. I had turned down a gang invitation.

In all honesty I'd rather be in the Chicano gang because they're much cooler guys, but I don't think it works like that. I should probably keep that to myself too unless I want my face remodeled by my own kind. Although going to that meeting was beneath my principles, I was dying to know what kind of dialog goes on in those meetings. Probably dropping lots of N-words and updates on their construction plans for the Great Wall of Mexico. Maybe some Bible verses taken vastly out of context? All the bedsheets are pink so I doubt they dress up.

One of the most irritating things is the lockdown. Every time the guards change shift, they get on the intercom and announce a lockdown for head count, which is at midnight, 8 AM, and 4 PM. You have to go back to your bunk until they have accounted for each person individually, and they don't count very fast. The first time it happened I had been on my way to the bathroom and felt like I was going to rupture a kidney. Then there's the "chow." When I opened my styrofoam container for dinner, I thought I had accidentally picked up one that someone had vomited in. Except that the second and third looked like that too. I was tempted to give it a poke with my plastic spoon, but was afraid that might make it angry enough to poke back. Instead I joined half the jail in line at the vending machines and laughed with them as we watched a black guy fight with a pigeon over a meal, and lose.

Another not-so-awesome thing is that every now and then, an unbearable smell will waft over the yard that smells like shit baking on hot asphalt. As it turns out, this is the jail burning remains of dead animals. If you are an animal lover, you might not want to read that last line. I sit there, savoring the smell and chuckling, daydreaming that they are fueling their fire with the lapdog of every girl I have dated. I think that's why half the other guys are chuckling too. Time to go back in, but next time I'll tell about my first ride in my life on public transportation, which backed up every reason I had never used it in the first place.