Prison, part 1

I've been in Texas the past 5 days visiting friends and family. It's funny but if there was a single state in the union I would think I would least like it would be Texas, and yet this is the third time I've been here and I always enjoy myself and want to extend my stay.

One of the things I was able to do was visit my friend in prison. As I mentioned in a previous post, there were many bureaucratic roadblocks, some of which I wasn't aware of until my friend told me during our visit. The morning of my visit I woke up in Dallas and after mapping out my route, I drove about 2 and a half hours, much of it in cow country. I was very careful not to exceed the speed limit, as I had horrible visions of how some back country cop would love to torture an Obama-loving Yankee from New York. The last hour of the drive the sun finally came out and the land was surprisingly green, with lightly rolling hills and lush trees. I arrived at the prison at 12:00 and had to queue up behind 3 other cars. As I got to the front of this first line, I was asked to pop the trunk, the hood, and open the glove compartment and console. I was then allowed to drive in to the parking lot. I left everything in my car, including my phone, my belt, my wallet, my paper money, walking in with only my car keys, my drivers licence and the clothes on my back. After a second queue of about 10 minutes, I had to empty my empty pockets and was thoroughly patted down (OK, not that thoroughly, you pigs!) before I was allowed to enter a metal detector. Then I was directed to another line, where I waited for 20 minutes as everyone approached a female guard who checked our names on a list, and asked us 20 questions. Once she approved my visit, I exited this first little building through a fenced in holding that only opened up to the front yard of the main prison after the door behind me shut. Once I was allowed out of the holding cell, I walked unescorted up a long and wide concrete path with beautifully landscaped shrubs and bushes on either side of me, and into the main prison receiving building. This time, there was a 40 min queue to get to yet another desk with yet another woman asking the same 20 questions. When she was done with me, she handed me a computer printout with my information, I left my ID with her and she pointed me to the visiting area. Another 2 door holding cell system. When I entered, I was in the midst of picnic tables filled with "offenders" and their loved ones. Because I was not family, I was not allowed a "contact visit" with my offender...er, friend. After looking around bewildered for about 30 seconds, one of the family members pointed me to a guard sitting at a desk who took my printout and told me to wait by window 6B while they retrieved the prisoner. I sat in front of a thick clear glass window for over 45 minutes, waiting for my friend to be shown down.

Every guard and prison employee I had contact with were extremely courteous and pleasant. I'm sure that's in stark contrast to the side of these same employees that the um, residents experience. While I waited, I tried to meditate, counting each breath in and out, but the sheer weight of being in such a sad and unfortunate place continuously played on my mind. I was acutely aware that my friend probably knew I was here waiting for him, and yet he had to wait until they brought him down to the other side of a bulletproof window. I was aware of the gang members, rapists, murderers and other misfits that occupied the same room as me, chatting happily with their family, hugging, and smiling for the pictures that the guard was taking with his Polaroid.

I was nervous to see my friend in such a setting. The last time we had seen each other was 5 years ago in New York, when he and another friend came to see me perform at a small piano lounge in the West Village. The three of us had one of those magical New York nights that visitors remember for a lifetime, and New Yorkers forget 2 days later. I didn't know him that well then, but through the course of our letters these past 6 months, I have come to know him much better. But other than pictures, I had forgotten what he looked like, or at least had thought I did.

Because I was traveling from out of state, I had obtained permission for a 4 hour visit. I wasn’t sure how the hell we were going to spend four hours talking through a phone and a bullet proof pane, but as they offered this extended visit, I took it, figuring I can always leave at anytime. Finally, he walked through the door into the prisoner side of the window. My first thought was that he had lost weight, and his face was more chiseled than I recalled. It took him from a cute boy to a handsome, well, boy still. He is 30 but looks much younger. He flashed me a wide smile and immediately enthused about me coming to visit. I felt very uncomfortable. I was unable to look him in the eye. He kept asking me how I was, how I’ve been. Well, um...it’s been a good day. I drove around in the beautiful back woods of this gorgeous country of ours. I listened to music from the fancy stereo in the fancy rental car. I called 4 friends from my iPhone (the 3G model, not the first generation) and chatted about nothing in particular. Last night I played on my favorite grand piano and was wined and dined in Dallas by adoring friends. This morning I hugged both of my nephews and my brother who insisted I call them when I was safely to my destination…no make that when I was safely away from my destination, truth be told. No one told me what to eat or when to shit. No one maced me with pepper spray or fucked me up the ass using hair grease just so that I could cop a couple of Haldols to crush up and put in my nose to dull the constant pain of a 99 year sentence. How the hell have you been, old buddy?

Post Script: Please read the following clarification: Click here