Son of a Nun

Son of a Nun!! Arrested! (Part 3) April 18, 2009

Hallway’s and Jail Cells

Leaving the finger printing area gave me a gut wrenching feeling of hopelessness. The 1-800 collect phone calls I made were unsuccessful. There is no one on the outside besides my friend, currently in Illinois, who knows I am in jail. I walk while contemplating this situation in an orderly fashion while following three others guided by an officer to another temporary holding cell.

The next area of cold hard comfort for my bottom was another temporary holding cell in a room adjacent to several different hallways. In the corner of the room were two phones. Keeping a conscious mind on the fact that I did not have any more numbers available, I left the phone alone and contemplated on bracing myself for whatever was coming next.

After about ten minutes of quiet contemplation an officer comes in to call off names of the unlucky people. I was one of those unlucky people. I was on the list. I was not being bailed out.

I proceed to walk in line with the five other people who were called. The officer escorts us through several doorways into a room adjacent to what looks like a long hallway leading into the depths of the Minneapolis underground. In this room was a cart with wheels that had toiletry items. The officer instructs us to grab one of each, toothpaste, a toothbrush, a towel, a cup, and a towel.

In a sort of deformed marching line we all grab toiletry items and proceed down the dark cold hallway.

Each long twist of the hallway only revealed the lengthy continuation of more hallways. It felt like an eternity.

We finally stop at a large thick metal door next to what looked like a giant bank vault with a combination lock. The officer calls off one name. He opens the door and tells the person to go into the room.

The man who’s name was called must have had experience with this before. He asked to officer, “where is my roommate?”. The officer apparently decided that he was better suited by himself and told him, “you’re on your own this time”. I paid attention to this dialog only long enough to understand the situation. My attention had been distracted by a giant code box on the vault in the hallway only yards away from the prison cell door. My thoughts were drowning in questions. A vault in a prison?? Really?

I dropped the theoretical questioning when the officer said to start walking with him again.

We proceed deeper into the detention center. The only noise is the sound of the orange plastic sandals against the concert hallways. It Rica-shay’s off of the red brick walls with each step. As we proceed deeper and deeper into the underground the echo’s of the orange plastic sandals get longer.

Finally we reach another stopping point. A series of window doors with several locked entryways is all that lies between myself and the inside.

I hear my name called off the list.

After walking past the two door entry way, we arrived in a dimly lit common area with metal tables and stools bolted to the floor. Adjacent to this room were seven cells where the prisoners were sleeping in this early a.m. hour

As the officer brings me to my room he flashes his flashlight so I can find my way up to the top bunk. As he shined his light into the room I see a glimpse of a large man cuddled in a blanket with his arms hanging down from the bed, covered in gorrish tattoo’s.

I set down my toiletries and make my way up to the top bunk. As I begin climbing up the ladder to the bunk the officer shuts and locks the cell door, leaving me with this giant tattooed man in the dark of night.

I lay down with the thin blanket given to me with my toiletries and begin to shut my eyes. Not a moment later the bed below me erupted in a thunderous snore. The beast below me was sound asleep. His nasal cavities erupted this sound that alluded to an early noise in the evening, strikingly similar to the grunt of the officer as he pushed me against the wall and started punching me. With every breath of the beast below, I envisioned the sound of the officer’s grunt.

I start imagining sheep jumping over a fence so I can get some sleep and have the energy to deal with whatever is to come in the mourning.