Wednesday, July 29, 2009

A Strange Wind A'Blowin'

It was just an odd day. I'll give you some details but when it comes right down to the brass tacks of it.... it was just an odd day.

Started out just busy busy busy as hell. There were releases in the hall and lockups in the sallyport and lockups on the benches and files and bags of property hip deep in the office. Threw in and helped lock people up and put things away and get squared away for shift change. Alot of work, but everybody was working (pretty much) so I didn't mind helping out.

When we were picking up the trays after dinner I caught a whiff of a pretty strange yet not unfamiliar odor coming from one of the cells. Snif! Snif! Yup.... they were smoking summa that there whacky tabacky for sure! Call the Sarge up and we searched but it was either gone or hidden in a place I sure wasn't sticking my hands into. No evidence left other than the smell so there was nothing we could do.

We get out on the rec yard and there's a large horse fly in one of the rec cages. And the inmate in there (who calls himself a hillbilly) is afraid to pick it up. Doesn't know if they bite or sting and doesn't even know which end it's head is! What kind of hillbilly is that?

He finally manages to get it picked up by the wings and the guy in the next cage says "Good thing it was dead or it might have got away from you!"


We finally get done with rec and Sarge and the guy I was working with (not Chuck or BG but some very odd little utility) were standing in the office shooting rubber bands at each others crotch. I sat there doing the rec files while rubber bands were flying past my head in their extremely silly macho game. Silly esecially for the utility, because everyone knows that Sarge feels no pain. He's like Ben Grimm (The "Thing" from the Fantastic Four) with the sense of humor of Bozo the Clown. Little utility dude was limping noticeably on the way out.

And after I turned in my radio and keys and was on my way out the door, one of the cats up front holds up a large cucumber with a rubber glove pulled over the top of it with a weird face drawn on in ink. He waves it at me and says "Bye now!" in a sqeaky cartoon voice.

Not all of the wobbleheads are behind the cell doors.

And I'm pretty sure I'm one of them.


  1. Rubber bands in the crotch. Is this a male bonding thing?

  2. Amy- I'm comfortable in my masculinity. I don't play the reindeer games. And I keep my crotch well protected.

  3. curious - do you socialize with the inmates? i mean on a friendly level? are there inmates that you feel are good people. or do you have to refrain from socializing with them?

  4. g,

    Some of them are likeable, and basically decent, maybe they just made a poor decision at one point in their life. Trouble is you never know the evil that lurks in a man's heart, so a prudent CO keeps all offenders at arms length. It's OK to have a friendly conversation with them, but if they were ever placed in a situation where they had to choose between taking a CO's side or an inmate's side, it would be an inmate's side every time. The Inmate Code, or whatever. And another aspect of being overly friendly with offenders is that it looks wrong on our part. The CO's Code, you might say.

  5. g- Like BA said, there are some that are personable and even pleasant, some of the time. But it's like raising poisonous snakes. They may be docile and cool to the touch most of the time, but those fangs are always there waiting for the right moment. Or a mistake. I try to use a long stick to handle them as much as possible.

    BA- you need to be running this place, I tell you!

  6. Rev,

    Flattery will get you everywhere!

  7. BA- remember that come time for my raise, you awesome hunk of CO-ness, you!

  8. Trust none of them.

    Inmates I mean.