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10:09 a.m. - 2004-10-20
End of the Tale
Perhaps you thought I was doing a little suspenseful tricky thing for the entry last time. You know, leaving it hanging so everyone would tune in for the next entry.

I don�t have that much energy to care about that kind of shit. The entry was just getting to long. Period.

The last two hours of my adventure actually flew pretty quick. In a mind numbing time standing still sorta way.

After my free strip search, I was shuffled over to get my photo and fingerprints. Finally. It took about 3 minutes. The only nice officer who took the photo told me to sit down in the Pit and that he would put a rush on these since I had come in on my own.

I felt relieved. I felt tired. I felt like I was back at the imaginary bus stop in my head, just waiting for my line to pull in. It would be any minute now.

People milled around the Pit and you had to raise your hand to go to the bathroom. Well I made a decision that I�d go into a seizure from holding it before I took one step into that bathroom. A few who were sitting next to me were chatting with each other like this was a normal day. A few asked me what I was in for (I laughed out loud at that phrase which drew puzzled looks all around). For awhile, I didn�t even answer them. I had no desire to socialize in order to pass the time. Instead I focused on how badly I wanted a cigarette and how they should have a checklist of things to enjoy/do before entering voluntarily.

After about 45 minutes, I began to look puzzled. I looked for the �nice� officer and waved at him. He came over and said the computers were down so it was taking a little longer than usual.

Oh. Well. That�s understandable I guess. I looked next to me at the creepy guy who said he had been arrested for drowning his child. I weakly smiled and began to get up to move to the other side of the room. Cause you know, BABY KILLER right next to me. He touched my arm as I got up and looked at me and said �The computers aren�t down. You�ll be lucky if you�re out of here before midnight.� I nodded in thanks (?) and headed over to the other side of the Pit where I welcomed the company of the gang bangers.

Another 15 minutes had gone by and I�m still sitting there. I have gotten the attention of every cop that has passed by me and has said the same thing each time: I don�t belong here, I came on my own accord, my photo and prints have been taken an hour ago, what�s the hold up?

The responses I received varied. A few just looked at me like I could be a baby killer. A few said they�d go check into it and would wander across the other side to stop and chat with another officer. They didn�t appear to be discussing me, but rather something like what kind of starch to use on their uniforms. I wouldn�t see them again. One got down right angry with me and interrupted my mantra. He shouted �Hey, I ain�t blowin� smoke up yer ass, you�ll be outta here soon�. Um. Okay. No one is fond of the smoke up the ass, so thanks.

They passed out something that was supposed to resemble bologna sandwiches, and then proceeded to dig into the pizza that they ordered for themselves. Nice. Give these assholes a raise, cause they are definitely enjoying their job.

At about 10:45pm, something in me snapped. Maybe it was the fact that the �nice� officer had avoided eye contact with me and refused to come over when I waved at him. Maybe it was how another officer was lining all of us up to go into some pseudo court to be processed. I didn�t get in line. He didn�t like that. He ordered me to. Heh heh. Ordered. That�s cute. I told him that I had a court date already on the 19th and there was no way I was going in there without my attorney. He told me to sit down. I did. For another hour. I realized that I had absolutely no rights here. No freedoms, no rights, no nothing. That is by far the scariest thing EVER.

There were a few payphones that we could use, but you had to enter your prison inmate number off your id bracelet. And all the calls were collect only. The only people I could call (to let them know I was at least all right) was the boyfriend and my mother. I only have the boyfriends cell number (isn�t that odd?) and you can�t make a collect call to those. My mother intentionally put a block on them on her home phone. I mean to have a deep discussion about that with her. Where, I ask you, is the sense in that??? The only other person I could think to call was my employer. The flip flop wearing idiot. I thought I would call him (he knows where I am) and tell him to call my mom and for her to call the boyfriend. His answering machine came on and here�s the message that was left by an automated voice:

Hello, you have a collect call from MELISSA, an inmate at Pima County Prison�.

I don�t know what the rest said, cause I hung up. I mean, he knew where I was, but geez, no need to announce it like THAT.

When the shift change of the officers took place, a new guy came up to me and said, �Looks like you�re all cleared. You can go�. His tone suggested he was saying something like, hope you enjoyed your meal, here�s your tab.

I had never heard better words in my whole life. I grabbed my purse from the receptionist, and walked outside. I proceeded to smoke 10 cigarettes in row, followed by a hot hot hot shower and 3 Cosmopolitans.

And that, in a nutshell, was my exciting evening in the jailhouse.

Advice: Avoid that trip if you can.

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