DannyBoyinExile

Well, it’s the Holiday Season again – at least, here in TDCJ. Our version doesn’t involve religions or celebrations, and the only festivity that takes place is the lockdown for the traditional shakedown. Season’s Greetings! Instead of trick-or-treating, they pass out sacks to all the good little inmates – though a PBJ sandwich and a bologna sandwich is nobody’s idea of a treat, to be sure! It’s called the “annual shakedown”, but has become such a solemn ceremony that we perform it TWICE a year.
Every six months, your entire facility will be placed on lockdown, while swarms of COs (or, at least, as many as they can find!) move from wing to wing, sifting through property and tossing contraband. Once the whole unit has been searched, and everyone has been purged of any contraband items (haha) – it’s back to normal operations, so we can begin the process of replacing everything.
I always try to make the best of the situation, but it IS tedious. We each have to pack all of our property (which somehow becomes far more than we ever suspected) all the way down the stairs – and all the way down the hall, to the gym. We’re given a brief respite, while our group is being searched – then we tote everything right back down the hall, and right back up the stairs.
There are usually a few wooden carts on hand, for elderly gents or people with medical restrictions. So I snatched one away from them, and rolled back to my wing with ease! (just kidding) I helped them push it down the hall, piled high like a wagon from the Old West – and took the opportunity to place my own stuff inside as well.
As I rolled onto my wing, a CO saw me pushing so much property and had the audacity to ask if it was all mine! I’m like, “Of course not. I WISH it were all mine!” (I didn’t wish that anymore, once I finished carrying my bundles all the way up to three row!)
Even though I was tired, I found enough energy reserves to make several more trips downstairs, to help the guys who were REALLY struggling with their stuff. (I mean, I helped them out by confiscating some of it!) (just kidding) A few other guys followed my example, and in no time at all, we had everybody’s property upstairs and in the proper cells – and none of us were any worse for wear. The workout would’ve made a Navy Seal proud. (The nap I took, shortly afterwards? Not so much.)
Then the ordeal was over with, except for a few guys complaining about losing various items of contraband. As far as I’m concerned, those rolls of tape, or bottles of glue and tattoo ink are easily replaceable – and never should’ve been carried through a major shakedown in the first place. Now all we have to do is kick back and relax until all the other wings get searched – but the hard part is behind us.
It feels good to have it over with, once again – and it even felt good to help out the other guys who really needed it. If we’d all lend someone a helping hand from time to time, it may make the world a better place. It might even make prison a better place. So says DannyBoy.