They had me on the bench when I left yesterday so when I came in I was dressed for wherever. It was supposed to be cold and bliskery outside so I layered up.
When I came in they said 25 house.
**sigh** Okay. I can do that.
It's an awfully boring house, for the most part. The offenders there are all in a program and they don't want to lose it, as passing the program is usually a condition of their release. So they usually behave themselves.
What I don't like about it is that they are all in the sexual offender program. So you know right away what kind of inmate you are dealing with over there. And they tend to make my lip curl.
But I was going to go and try to make the best of the evening.
Just as I was about to head over there Lt Sienna poked his head out and said "Hey Revvy! Change of plans! You're going to the Hive!"
Oh. Okay. I can do that too!
My first time down in the Hive as a Sergeant. I was kind of excited and a little nostalgic and a little bit saddened by being down there. The place seems so empty without BG in it still.
But I buckled down behind the desk and sat there kind of befuddled as I watched other people doing the stuff I was so used to doing myself. I tried to busy myself with paperwork but there really isn't all that much paperwork to do down there.
Just checking the numbers and writing a quick report to the Captain at the beginning of shift and I was done.
And nothing happened. They got their meds. And they got their chow. And some of them went out to rec.
And nothing continued to happen for quite some time.
Persistently, almost mockingly, the nothing continued happening despite all of my mental efforts to the contrary.
Then about halfway through the shift I hear a call from the wobblehead house to Sgt Uncle T and they said "10-10 ASAP!"
Oh yeah. I know what those ASAP calls mean. Something bad has happened and I'm going to be getting something to do finally!
So I grabbed up my lockup sheet and had my pencil poised, waiting for the phone to ring. All the while listening to the radio traffic. Uncle T called Lt Farmer who called Captain CJ who called Captain Spit who called Sausage out on the yard and told him to go get the camera and bring it down.
That's never a good sign when they want the camera. If they need pictures of something it's going to mean paperwork for somebody. At least it wasn't me, this time.
Turns out there was a fight in one of the cells. One of them ended up getting whomped in the.... groin area.... and the other one got his head banged off of the bunk. The first one got a bag of ice for his crotch and the other one had to be sent out for stitches.
And nobody saw the fight before it was over. The cell door was closed and apparently it started right after the officer had left the wing so they would have the maximum amount of time.
Well, we got the kid with the bag of ice pretty quickly. I think he was happy to get in a cell and lay down for awhile. The other guy didn't come back from the hospital until just after we left for the evening.
I thought that was going to be our excitement for the evening when I got another call. They were locking one up out of 2 house. He was hearing voices telling him to kill himself. Nice.
We got him in and stripped down to a smock in a camera cell in no time. He wasn't real happy, but at least he would find it a bit harder to kill himself in there. And being in a cold cell with nothing on but a kevlar smock makes you realize that there are some good things out there worth living for. Like clothes and hot food and a mattress and blanket, if nothing else.
And to top my night off the lovely and sniffly Sgt Miz Archer came in early to relieve me. Bless her heart. She sounded like she had a miserable cold but she was happy to see me and I was happy to see her. In more ways than one.
So I survived my first night back in the old homestead.
We all walked out safe at the end of the night, and that's all that mattered.
Thursday is going to be Feast of Fabulous Wild Men Day (okayyy.... sounds kind strange...), National Peach Melba Day (really?), National Pharmacists Day, National Handwriting Day and John Hancock's Birthday.
Go party on, you fabulous wild men!
Mann Tracht, Un Gott Lacht - *That's an old Yiddish proverb that some translate to this: "Man plans, God laughs." I have had many occasions in my life to use that quotation.* *Don't ...
3 days ago