DannyBoyinExile

The other day, a guy smoked too much K2 (or fentanyl, or rat poison, or whatever it was), and decided that he could fly. So he launched himself from two row, and “flew” down to the concrete on the bottom floor. Who am I to say that he couldn’t fly? In fact, his flight went fine, or so I heard. His landing? Not so much. He promptly cracked his head open, and got his wing placed on lockdown for 24 hours.
Compare that to another incident that took place about a month ago. I was at my section’s door, waiting to be let out for a visit, when a swarm of guards ran by, heading to the section next door. Within seconds, I could smell tear gas, and I knew that my visit wasn’t as important to them as whatever they were responding to.
A few minutes later, they bring a guy out who looked like Freddie Krueger just got ahold of him. There was so much blood leaking from his face and head that he was literally leaving a trail of red drops on the floor.
Next to be escorted out was Freddie Krueger himself (names have been changed, to protect the guilty!) – who was obviously intoxicated, and screaming at the guards. “I know what y’all are about to do! Let’s get it over with! I ain’t scared to die!”
Clearly, the only thing they had on their minds was getting him to lockup, where he’d be in a cell by himself and not a threat to anyone else. After my visit, I was in a holding area of sorts when the first guy came back from the hospital. He had stitches in his lip and ear, staples in his scalp – and an assortment of lumps and bruises to go with them.
He looked so rough that I couldn’t help but feel sorry for him – as well as wonder just what the heck he DID, to deserve that kind of ass-whipping! I mean, people get beat up in prison, that’s just a fact of life in here. But they rarely get beat up to THAT extent, without extenuating circumstances.
Come to find out, the only thing he did was try to get out of his cell, to go to church! His cellie had been up for several days, high on meth, and went literally paranoid schizophrenic. He convinced himself that when his new cellmate left the cell, he was going to tell on him. So he simply would not LET him leave, even for church! When the poor guy (his cellie, I mean, not him!) stopped the guard and persuaded he to open the door, his cellie fired off on him, gave him the worst beating of his life (I hope!), AND got them both gassed! (I’m sure THAT didn’t feel very good, in those open wounds…)
That’s the difference between Toon Attacks and Meth Madness. With meth, it becomes a matter of paranoia. People occasionally jump on someone because they FEEL as if the other person was talking about them, plotting on them – or just plain WATCHING them. More often, though, they’ll do things like refuse to leave their cell for days at a time, or tie their doors shut with a sheet or rope to prevent “whoever” from running in on them.
Generally, after eating and sleeping, they’ll return to their normal selves – though that’s typically the LAST thing they want to do. They want to stay high!
Incidents like these are so common then when a guard comes by to close the cell doors, and notices that it’s already closed – and tied shut, at that! – they’ll take the guy to lockup and he’ll eventually sleep it off, without being a threat to anyone else. (It’s not at all uncommon for them to go to lockup on their own, by telling the staff that “whoever” is out to get them, and their life is in danger!)
My wife asked me which of the two was worse: toon attacks, or meth madness. To that, I would say that toon attacks are much worse. Meth Madness may be SCARY, to deal with someone who is having a full-blown psychotic episode. But people hardly ever die from it.
Toon Attacks, on the other hand (especially the stuff that contains fentanyl), actually KILL people, which is infinitely worse. You can’t recover from that, or learn a lesson from it, because you could literally stop breathing and die as a result of it. I don’t blame people for looking for some kind of escape from the monotony of prison. After 30+ years here, I understand. But I’d much rather get out of here ALIVE, so I can continue the rest of my life, and see what I can still accomplish. Sadly, that’s an option a lot of inmates won’t get, because that one hit turned out to be their LAST hit. I may not be able to help any of them – but I can make damn sure that it doesn’t happen to me.
Besides, if my wife found out I was smoking that stuff – SHE’D kill me before the K2 ever did, and that’s something to think about. So says DannyBoy.