To get something done, you've got to act like a dickhead.
This is the advice i was given early on.
Being an Englishman in New York, i can tell you straight off the bat that everything you have heard about Americans going spastic over english accents is true. You get treated like royalty..knowing the intelligence of the average American, they probably think you ARE royalty..but never the less, it's sweet.
This does not translate to the Prison domain.
When i first came out of the SHUm i was put on eleven north. While up there, i had to register to use the phone and internet. Then, for some unknown reason, i was moved down to the ninth floor.
I had not spoken to or had any contact with my family and freinds in ten days, and considering the precarious predicament one had found oneself in, mans was shitting a brick.
My moving floors had screwed up my phone 'privelidges', as i was registered to being on the eleventh floor, but was on the ninth..so whenever i tried to use the phone, it wasn't having any of it.
Day after day, every morning, i would go to the councillors office and ask the pompous redneck if she could kindly fix my 'minor problem', in my most charming Timothy Dalton impression. She would just smile, flirt, then do nothing to help.
Fourteen days had passed, and still nothing. Over lunch, i vent my feelings to the surround criminals in my vacinity..
"Yo, to get anything done dude, you gotta act like a dickhead"
Sounds like an interesting theory..
I mean, i tried many times to get the job done using my English charms.
Time for the Turkish approach.
As i walk toward the bitches office, i can feel the Raki running through my veins..my nose is cutting the surrounding air like a concord..
"My phone is not working. I have been in this jail with no contact with the outside world for fourteen days. I need to use the phone"
The saggy faced bozo the clown in front of me just lists excuses i have heard already. Even if she gave a valid one, i'm not listening anyway. She's squirming in her chair like some kind of moronic slug, trying to shift the blame to anyone that just happens to not be at work today.
"So who's incompetant?"
"huh?" She burps back at me
"Well someone clearly doesn't know how to do their job around here, so you're telling me these people are incompetant?"
"err err no?"
"Well, either they are, or you are, as shit ain't getting done. My job in here is to be a well behaved prisoner, and i'm doing that, so who is the moron on this occasion that is incapable of doing their job properly?"
She reaches over to the 'guards get the fuck in here it's clobberin time' button, so i kindly take my leave.
Funnily enough, an hour later, guess who's phone is now working?
Later in the evening i hear an inmate talking to one of his freinds..
"you see that white boy going crazy at Ms L? Crazy cracker"
Monday, 6 December 2010
Settling in
For this Englishman, life had most certainly taken a turn for the worse.
All of my teenage years, i had dreamed of living in New York City, it had always been one of my aspirations in life, way before i took up scribbling on walls for fun..
I had made it here, and ultimately fuck it all up. And it hit me hard.
Before my arrest, i had all the material things i could ever have wanted..dope apartment, deep threads, more or less unlimited amounts of weed (which was NOT a good thing), a shitload of paint, everything.
Now i have nothing, but some brown, skiddy looking overalls and a prison number.
I was very alone. Apart from one or two freinds, i knew no one in this city. No one to visit me, to help me out or comfort me in this extremely difficult time. The fluezy i had married was of no help, and seemed to be forgetting, by the day, what marriage is all about.
Now, a bit of prison advice for you. DONT stay in your cell all the time. It is unhealthy, unproductive, and will just lead to negative thinking habits. Would've, should've, could've was all that was going around my brain, as i sat in this cell feeling like my whole world was crumbling, and my journey in life was coming to an end.
Then when i was at my lowest, the human spirit came knocking.
Cold blooded killers, Mafia hitmen, Gangsters, Big time drug dealers, were all coming to talk to me. They were coming to check on me, and make sure i was ok. They didn't know me from a hole in the wall, and we were obviously from VERY different lives..but they cared. They were coming to remind me that i am a good guy, and i will be ok. The 'worst of society' reached out to me with support, advice and understanding.
Society would have you believe that everyone incarcerated are pieces of shit..contrary to popular belief, these same individuals showed me more support and compassion than i ever would've expected. They had all kinds of advice, that always wrung true..even if i didn't understand it at the time. For example, my freind Ox gave me this very crude, but very true words of wisdom..
"Yo you're a real good dude man, you're at your lowest, if your wife ain't gonna be there for you at a time like this..
then fuck that broad!"
Preach!
All of my teenage years, i had dreamed of living in New York City, it had always been one of my aspirations in life, way before i took up scribbling on walls for fun..
I had made it here, and ultimately fuck it all up. And it hit me hard.
Before my arrest, i had all the material things i could ever have wanted..dope apartment, deep threads, more or less unlimited amounts of weed (which was NOT a good thing), a shitload of paint, everything.
Now i have nothing, but some brown, skiddy looking overalls and a prison number.
I was very alone. Apart from one or two freinds, i knew no one in this city. No one to visit me, to help me out or comfort me in this extremely difficult time. The fluezy i had married was of no help, and seemed to be forgetting, by the day, what marriage is all about.
Now, a bit of prison advice for you. DONT stay in your cell all the time. It is unhealthy, unproductive, and will just lead to negative thinking habits. Would've, should've, could've was all that was going around my brain, as i sat in this cell feeling like my whole world was crumbling, and my journey in life was coming to an end.
Then when i was at my lowest, the human spirit came knocking.
Cold blooded killers, Mafia hitmen, Gangsters, Big time drug dealers, were all coming to talk to me. They were coming to check on me, and make sure i was ok. They didn't know me from a hole in the wall, and we were obviously from VERY different lives..but they cared. They were coming to remind me that i am a good guy, and i will be ok. The 'worst of society' reached out to me with support, advice and understanding.
Society would have you believe that everyone incarcerated are pieces of shit..contrary to popular belief, these same individuals showed me more support and compassion than i ever would've expected. They had all kinds of advice, that always wrung true..even if i didn't understand it at the time. For example, my freind Ox gave me this very crude, but very true words of wisdom..
"Yo you're a real good dude man, you're at your lowest, if your wife ain't gonna be there for you at a time like this..
then fuck that broad!"
Preach!
General Population
After a brief period on 11 North, i am moved down to 9N.
The units look similar to shit in the program Oz. A main floor, with 3 'tiers' that have an upstairs row of cells, and a downstairs row of cells. The first thing i notice is a tall, bugged out looking dude, doing the running man dance in the middle of the main floor. He dances over to me, introduces himself (WERD T!) then dances off again..Charming!
The guard then walks me to my cell. It's downstairs. At the back. Just about far enough, that if it was shank o clock, no one would hear jack shit. Great.
I'm half Turkish, quatre Polish, quartre English. I've always considered myself Turkish. Like most Turks, i have a big nose, am good at arguing, fucking, and being extremely stubborn. No suprises there. But for some reason, i have never felt so white in my life than at this moment..standing next to at least twenty four EXTREMELY unimpressed looking hispanic, Dominican, Puerto Rican, African American, and Columbian individuals, who compared to me, all look like they're entering Mr Universe and could win.. I felt i had two choices. Either start talking like Bricktop from Snatch, spouting breeze about 'shooters' and 'ponys' and make out that i won Brittains Hardest (but that might include demonstrating that i can kick through ten wooden doors back to back) or, i could just be Real with these guys. Realness always pays off, seriously.
So my new cellmate. He's a dude in his 40s, name's Ox, has a swollen head that looks like an apple, but seems really safe! Plus, he works in the kitchen, so it's munch o clock up in here!
I explain to him and his freinds how crazy the dude looked who i almost had to share a cell with, and they calmy reply
"Oh yeh? Don't worry kid, our guy you swapped with is probably kicking his ass all over the fucking place right now'
Jokers..
The units look similar to shit in the program Oz. A main floor, with 3 'tiers' that have an upstairs row of cells, and a downstairs row of cells. The first thing i notice is a tall, bugged out looking dude, doing the running man dance in the middle of the main floor. He dances over to me, introduces himself (WERD T!) then dances off again..Charming!
The guard then walks me to my cell. It's downstairs. At the back. Just about far enough, that if it was shank o clock, no one would hear jack shit. Great.
I'm half Turkish, quatre Polish, quartre English. I've always considered myself Turkish. Like most Turks, i have a big nose, am good at arguing, fucking, and being extremely stubborn. No suprises there. But for some reason, i have never felt so white in my life than at this moment..standing next to at least twenty four EXTREMELY unimpressed looking hispanic, Dominican, Puerto Rican, African American, and Columbian individuals, who compared to me, all look like they're entering Mr Universe and could win.. I felt i had two choices. Either start talking like Bricktop from Snatch, spouting breeze about 'shooters' and 'ponys' and make out that i won Brittains Hardest (but that might include demonstrating that i can kick through ten wooden doors back to back) or, i could just be Real with these guys. Realness always pays off, seriously.
So my new cellmate. He's a dude in his 40s, name's Ox, has a swollen head that looks like an apple, but seems really safe! Plus, he works in the kitchen, so it's munch o clock up in here!
I explain to him and his freinds how crazy the dude looked who i almost had to share a cell with, and they calmy reply
"Oh yeh? Don't worry kid, our guy you swapped with is probably kicking his ass all over the fucking place right now'
Jokers..
Sunday, 5 December 2010
Mouse
For the first few days in the box, i find it extremely difficult to sleep, for many reasons.
The most obvious being that i'm used to sleeping in a warm comfortable bed,
not in a freezing cold fart infested cell, on a paper thin 'mattress', getting constantly woken up the sound of
"Sorry my freind, i need shit"
and then constant flushing of the toilet (in jail, while mid-shit, you need to keep flushing the toilet so you don't hotbox the cell with shit fumes).
One of the reasons i can't sleep, is i keep thinking i am hallucinating, seeing things moving across the floor. After a few days of bugging out thinking i'm losing it bigtime, i realise my eyes are not playing tricks on me, and i see the mouse. No problemo.
Some people hate them, but to me, i just saw this mouse as being in the same boat as me and my hairy turkish behind.
Then the day comes when we see the waterbug/cockroach. Unsuprisingly, there is no such sympathy or comradarie between us.
For two days i ask the guards for some kind of disinfectant or cleaning products. The responses range from yes, no, fuck you, fuck off, to kill them yourself and eat it you moron. Finally, a response of 'ok'. Nice.
So about an hour goes past, we play some cards. D tells me some stories about prison in Russia. He says there are ten people in each cell, and the toilet is in the middle of the room, raised up, like a podium. Jokes.
"oh shit!"
I look over, and in the middle of the floor, lies the mouse. Dead.
He doesn't look like he died a pieceful death either.
The two of us just stare at it for a good 5 minutes.
"man..man, this is not a good sign dude"
For me, in my depressed state, i take it as an extreme downer. D on the other hand, has a different theory.
"i think cockroach make decleration of war, look at mouse, if you fuck with us it happen to you"
We spent the next half hour bickering about who is going to get rid of the corpse/flush it down the toilet.
It's decided over a game of cards/shithead. I win, as usual.
My russian freind says a prayer, then flushes Topo Gigio off to a brighter tomorrow in turdsville tennesse.
We didn't use the bug spray, and we never saw the cockroach again.
The most obvious being that i'm used to sleeping in a warm comfortable bed,
not in a freezing cold fart infested cell, on a paper thin 'mattress', getting constantly woken up the sound of
"Sorry my freind, i need shit"
and then constant flushing of the toilet (in jail, while mid-shit, you need to keep flushing the toilet so you don't hotbox the cell with shit fumes).
One of the reasons i can't sleep, is i keep thinking i am hallucinating, seeing things moving across the floor. After a few days of bugging out thinking i'm losing it bigtime, i realise my eyes are not playing tricks on me, and i see the mouse. No problemo.
Some people hate them, but to me, i just saw this mouse as being in the same boat as me and my hairy turkish behind.
Then the day comes when we see the waterbug/cockroach. Unsuprisingly, there is no such sympathy or comradarie between us.
For two days i ask the guards for some kind of disinfectant or cleaning products. The responses range from yes, no, fuck you, fuck off, to kill them yourself and eat it you moron. Finally, a response of 'ok'. Nice.
So about an hour goes past, we play some cards. D tells me some stories about prison in Russia. He says there are ten people in each cell, and the toilet is in the middle of the room, raised up, like a podium. Jokes.
"oh shit!"
I look over, and in the middle of the floor, lies the mouse. Dead.
He doesn't look like he died a pieceful death either.
The two of us just stare at it for a good 5 minutes.
"man..man, this is not a good sign dude"
For me, in my depressed state, i take it as an extreme downer. D on the other hand, has a different theory.
"i think cockroach make decleration of war, look at mouse, if you fuck with us it happen to you"
We spent the next half hour bickering about who is going to get rid of the corpse/flush it down the toilet.
It's decided over a game of cards/shithead. I win, as usual.
My russian freind says a prayer, then flushes Topo Gigio off to a brighter tomorrow in turdsville tennesse.
We didn't use the bug spray, and we never saw the cockroach again.
Saturday, 4 December 2010
toilet paper
You are given toilet paper twice a week. If you run out, it's upto the guard on duty whether he wants to be safe and get you some or not.
One day the guys next door to us are arguing, we hear they are arguing because one of them needs a shit and he doesn't have any paper. He calls the guard over, and asks for some. She says she will get him some when she feels like it. Two hours go past, and still no paper. He's shouting louder and louder, then everyone in every cell in the box starts kicking the doors shouting 'we want some paper, we want some paper'. Finally the guard comes back after hearing what sounds like a bomb going off, and says 'i told you i'd get you some paper, now you can wait'. So everyone starts kicking the doors again, not to be left out, me an dimitri start kicking away too..then the guard comes back one more time 'you should've listened, now you ain't getting shit'
' BITCH, I'MA SHIT IN YOUR MOUTH'
Then an alarm goes off, and we just see guards running in everywhere..apparently he didn't wait, shat in his hand, and threw it in the guards face when she opened the hatch. Jokes!
One day the guys next door to us are arguing, we hear they are arguing because one of them needs a shit and he doesn't have any paper. He calls the guard over, and asks for some. She says she will get him some when she feels like it. Two hours go past, and still no paper. He's shouting louder and louder, then everyone in every cell in the box starts kicking the doors shouting 'we want some paper, we want some paper'. Finally the guard comes back after hearing what sounds like a bomb going off, and says 'i told you i'd get you some paper, now you can wait'. So everyone starts kicking the doors again, not to be left out, me an dimitri start kicking away too..then the guard comes back one more time 'you should've listened, now you ain't getting shit'
' BITCH, I'MA SHIT IN YOUR MOUTH'
Then an alarm goes off, and we just see guards running in everywhere..apparently he didn't wait, shat in his hand, and threw it in the guards face when she opened the hatch. Jokes!
The Box/SHU
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.
Happy Times!
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
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.
Happy Times!
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
Thursday, 2 December 2010
The Beginning
It is a Thursday night, it's raining, and i get home from a sick night out with a hot tomato (who was not my wife)..
Unsuprisingly there is no food in my apartment, so my last meal consists of crackers, soup and a downloaded copy of Desperado.
6AM comes, and i am kindly woken by shotgun toting Secret Service against, who are screaming at me and are adamant that my name is Douglas Quade. I try to tell them they are mistaken, they have got the wrong house, and my name is Houser. They don't see the funny side. So i'm arrested.
After hours of pointless interogation at their porkys secret HQ, i am assigned a piece of shit attorney, who purposely fucks up any chance of me getting bail. Nice one.
Off to MCC New York, located in Manhatton, just by Church Street, not far from were i got married two months earlier! From my stay in New York City, i have lived in Coney Island, Queens, Brooklyn, now Manhatton. All that's left is the Bronx and Harlem, and i've done it all...
The first thing i am greeted with is a strip search, then given a Guantanamo Bay style orange jumpsuit. They give you orange when you first come in to shock you. I thought the colour was live, but whatever. As this is a pre-trial facility, it is rammo. So initially, you are put into the SHU, which means solitary confinement. Ironically, for existing inmates this is used as a form of punishment.
The two people who i am waiting to find who i will be sharing a cell with..One is most people's nightmare scenario, a 7ft tall jailbird who is looking at me like i'm a playboy bunny. The other is an extradited dude from Russia, who looks like coughing would crack his own ribs. Luckily, god threw me a bone!
Our cell is tiny, freezing cold, an the toilet is conveniently placed in a position so you have no other choice other than being confronted by your cellmate squeezing out a turd every time you need to go. I see mice and rats, but that doesn't bother me too much..it's only when one morning i am awoken to a russian accent screaming 'oh my gad!' , i see what looks like an extra from Joes Apartment. In my whole time in NYC, i'd never seen anything like it. It was like a Lion bar with legs and antenna.
DRY!
After ten long days in the SHU, being locked up almost 24 hours a day, it's time to go to general population..
General Population..for an Englishman in New York, is pretty daunting to say the least. I am imagining the scene from Tango and Cash when they first go into General population 'HEY CASH I'M GONNA PUT BROWN SUGAR IN YO ASS'..
First, i am sent to 11North. The atmosphere isn't good, everyone is staunched the fuck out. The cell they put me in already has someone in, i don't see him at first so unload all of my shit and take a shower. About an hour last, my russian freind says 'have you seen your cellmate? He looks like maniac'..I look over, and see a 50-70 year old man with scars all over his face, and looks like he would have no problem chewing a baby to death. I feel like i have been instantly transported from MCC New York to Skidsville tennesse.
"Guvercin, pack your shit up, you're going to 9North"
thank FUCK for that..
9North is a very different unit. When i get there, i hear people laughing..and one dude dances across the floor to greet me to the unit. I am literally the only white person in the whole unit..Which isn't a problem for me, i was hoping..
After a few weeks of being called a Cracker and a piece of shit white devil, I am informed that i am no longer white, i am black, and that my name is now TimDog.
Life on the unit isn't too bad, you just have to make the most of your time and try and stay positive, and NOT stress about your case or anything else out of your control. You are free to leave your cell most of the day, and can use the phones and email at almost anytime to get through to your people..
And currently, for now, this is my home. The hardest thing for me is being alone. I hardly know anyone in this country, the few people i did know mostly turned out to be very bad people indeed, meaning no visits and no real contact.
But i can do this.
I have dealt with worse in my life, and come out stronger and wiser. And this is merely a learning experience, one that i started learning from, from day one.
I am in this jail because i consciously decided to live a life without excuses, boundaries and unlimited posibilities.
These fucking pigs will never experience a fraction of the things i have done, and will do with my life..and they will pay on their deathbeds for their corporate cocksucking existences.
Unsuprisingly there is no food in my apartment, so my last meal consists of crackers, soup and a downloaded copy of Desperado.
6AM comes, and i am kindly woken by shotgun toting Secret Service against, who are screaming at me and are adamant that my name is Douglas Quade. I try to tell them they are mistaken, they have got the wrong house, and my name is Houser. They don't see the funny side. So i'm arrested.
After hours of pointless interogation at their porkys secret HQ, i am assigned a piece of shit attorney, who purposely fucks up any chance of me getting bail. Nice one.
Off to MCC New York, located in Manhatton, just by Church Street, not far from were i got married two months earlier! From my stay in New York City, i have lived in Coney Island, Queens, Brooklyn, now Manhatton. All that's left is the Bronx and Harlem, and i've done it all...
The first thing i am greeted with is a strip search, then given a Guantanamo Bay style orange jumpsuit. They give you orange when you first come in to shock you. I thought the colour was live, but whatever. As this is a pre-trial facility, it is rammo. So initially, you are put into the SHU, which means solitary confinement. Ironically, for existing inmates this is used as a form of punishment.
The two people who i am waiting to find who i will be sharing a cell with..One is most people's nightmare scenario, a 7ft tall jailbird who is looking at me like i'm a playboy bunny. The other is an extradited dude from Russia, who looks like coughing would crack his own ribs. Luckily, god threw me a bone!
Our cell is tiny, freezing cold, an the toilet is conveniently placed in a position so you have no other choice other than being confronted by your cellmate squeezing out a turd every time you need to go. I see mice and rats, but that doesn't bother me too much..it's only when one morning i am awoken to a russian accent screaming 'oh my gad!' , i see what looks like an extra from Joes Apartment. In my whole time in NYC, i'd never seen anything like it. It was like a Lion bar with legs and antenna.
DRY!
After ten long days in the SHU, being locked up almost 24 hours a day, it's time to go to general population..
General Population..for an Englishman in New York, is pretty daunting to say the least. I am imagining the scene from Tango and Cash when they first go into General population 'HEY CASH I'M GONNA PUT BROWN SUGAR IN YO ASS'..
First, i am sent to 11North. The atmosphere isn't good, everyone is staunched the fuck out. The cell they put me in already has someone in, i don't see him at first so unload all of my shit and take a shower. About an hour last, my russian freind says 'have you seen your cellmate? He looks like maniac'..I look over, and see a 50-70 year old man with scars all over his face, and looks like he would have no problem chewing a baby to death. I feel like i have been instantly transported from MCC New York to Skidsville tennesse.
"Guvercin, pack your shit up, you're going to 9North"
thank FUCK for that..
9North is a very different unit. When i get there, i hear people laughing..and one dude dances across the floor to greet me to the unit. I am literally the only white person in the whole unit..Which isn't a problem for me, i was hoping..
After a few weeks of being called a Cracker and a piece of shit white devil, I am informed that i am no longer white, i am black, and that my name is now TimDog.
Life on the unit isn't too bad, you just have to make the most of your time and try and stay positive, and NOT stress about your case or anything else out of your control. You are free to leave your cell most of the day, and can use the phones and email at almost anytime to get through to your people..
And currently, for now, this is my home. The hardest thing for me is being alone. I hardly know anyone in this country, the few people i did know mostly turned out to be very bad people indeed, meaning no visits and no real contact.
But i can do this.
I have dealt with worse in my life, and come out stronger and wiser. And this is merely a learning experience, one that i started learning from, from day one.
I am in this jail because i consciously decided to live a life without excuses, boundaries and unlimited posibilities.
These fucking pigs will never experience a fraction of the things i have done, and will do with my life..and they will pay on their deathbeds for their corporate cocksucking existences.
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