DannyBoyinExile

In theory, prison cells (much like men) are created equally. The reality is far different. I mean, all cells are created in the exact same size and configuration, so you wouldn’t expect much variation. But 50 or 75 YEARS of wear and tear, by 50 or 75 years worth of inmates, renders each cell as individual as a fingerprint.
The first thing we do upon moving to a different cell is to try and determine just how it’s different from our previous cell – and what’s wrong with it. Because there are innumerable ways a cell can malfunction – as I was just reminded (the hard way!) when I was moved to a different cell.
At first glance, everything seemed fine. The sink and toilet worked properly. (Neither of them leaked, refused to operate – or refused to STOP operating when I was finished with it!) My top bunk was stable, where it was bolted to the wall. My locker door opened and closed securely. After a few days, I felt lucky to be in a cell with no problems to speak of, and a cellmate I could live with as well.
It wasn’t until a few weeks later that my cell’s hidden defects revealed themselves. First my cell door wouldn’t lock properly. You might think that it’s hardly a problem to live in a cell that won’t lock, because you could go in and out whenever you want – but don’t think that. How secure is all of my property when I’m at work, and ANYONE can come into my cell and do a little Christmas shopping? I’d much rather my cell remain locked until it’s SUPPOSED to be open.
Not to mention the fact that every time the guard opens the doors, he’s at MY door, slamming it repeatedly, and asking me why it won’t shut. I’m no locksmith, but I usually go out on a limb and suggest to them that maybe… just maybe… it’s broken! I get particularly annoyed when I’m asleep, and they keep waking me up to question me as if I’ve somehow CAUSED it to remain open.
Aside from that problem (which comes and goes), I noticed the other day that, although it wasn’t raining outside – it started raining IN MY CELL! My ceiling began leaking drops of water, constantly, all along a seam in my roof. I live on the top floor, true enough – but it is summertime, in Texas, so it hardly EVER rains! I shudder to think about what sort of pipe must be busted on the roof, which is leaking directly into my cell. Now I have to lay a line of towels across my floor to absorb all the drips – which is a constant situation. Every few hours I have to wring the water out of the towels, dry the floor, and lay them down again until the next cycle.
I can’t even sit on my toilet, without a constant barrage of drops raining down on me… I’ve told every guard and rank I’ve encountered, to have these problems fixed, but as luck would have it (DannyBoy luck, that is), it’s Memorial Day Weekend, so any repairs will take a while.
But this, too, shall pass. I try to keep my head up, and laugh about it instead of whining, complaining – or ripping all of my hair out in frustration. If there’s anything positive I can glean from the situation, it’s this: At least I don’t have to worry about cell searches, because the guards will get rained on, just like I do! Once the first few drops land on them, it should become obvious to them why I have towels laying across my floor! I just hope that they get so mad about getting wet that they’ll call someone to get it fixed, since I don’t like it any more than they do.
Prison has plenty of frustrations to offer – and how we deal with them illustrates how ready we are to be released, because there will be plenty of frustrations out there, too… I just hope that all the rain in the free world will be OUTDOORS, where it belongs! So says DannyBoy.