Upon my arrival at MCC New York, i am put into the SHU/box/Solitary confinement.
The cells are extremely cold, and you are in there for at least 23 hours a day. The only times you come out of your cell, is when you are allowed to shower (Monday, Wednesday and Friday. Apparently you don't need to be clean at the weekend) or for recreation/exercise.
Oh, and other than when you are in your cell, you are handcuffed at all times. Except when locked in the shower.
As far as recreation..As being in the SHU is a punishment for existing inmates, as you can imagine you are not treated like royalty. When i kindly informed the guard that there was rats in my cell, in my best polite James Bond accent (it gets you almost anything when dealing with americans. they are that stupid.) i am greeted with the reply 'SHUT THE FUCK UP'..saaafe G!
Also, they check on you every half hour at night. As in bang on the door, until you wake up and acknowledge the moronic cocksucker that was clearly bullied at school, standing at your door, getting his rocks off at fucking with you.
Evidently, you don't get much sleep. To go to recreation/exercise, you need to tell the guard first thing in the morning (4 am).
The guards however, unsuprisingly, don't have you getting exercise on the top of their list of priorities..But they are obliged to offer it to you.
So what do they do?
Literally tip toe past your door, and whisper 'recreation' just louder than a squeeky high pitched fart. Nice one.
After a week of me sleeping while these mother fuckers was creepin, me an my cellie finally get to go rec. Which we needed. To say things had gotten mindnumbingly fucking boring being in the cell everday, was an understatement. So bored, in fact, i had taken it upon myself to MAKE a deck of cards out of the only paper we had in the room. Which i found out after making them wasn't my paper (which had all been used doing throwups and other mindless wastes of time) but my cellies, who just looked morbidly depressed when he realised he had no paper left. Yes, the cards were VERY fucking crude, yes they were practically see through, but they were good enough for us to play shithead on so fuck it!!
We are joined on the roof by two hench members of the crips. The big 6 tattood on each one of them gave that one away. I make a feeble attempt at small talk, and am met with the worst fucking screwfaces i have ever seen in my life, and purely blanked out. faaaair doos!
One other dude is on the roof, who is talkative, and seems pretty safe. He tells us his name is 'Bishop'. Unbeknownst to him, he just christened himself as a complete belle end. Bishop indeed.
Anyways, after an hour of standing on the roof, we are cuffed, shackled, and head back down to the box. Bellend hears how i made our crude deck of cars, and kindly offers to lend us his. Safe!
Now i must point out, my russian freind had spent most of our rec time telling this guy the ins and outs of his case. Not clever. 90 per cent of so called 'road mans' in in Federal jail, are snitches/rats.
We get back to our cell, and realise Bishop is next door to us. The walls are thin.
We hear Bishop the bell end tell his cellmate every single thing my guy told him, and how it 'could help his case'.
First lesson learnt. Don't tell people your business.
Dimitri doesn't seem too bothered. I am.
The next day i know he (bellend) is leaving the boz, so i get the guard to return his box of cars.
'DUDE, DUDE, WAT THA FOK'
Gutted prick. I deal me and dimitri into another game of shithead and let Bishop enjoy his new hand made deck of cars