Adam Fucking Frantz

Archive for July, 2012

Letter #4: June 20th, 2012 – Lunch Riot

We’ve all seen them in the news or on wildest police video shows, but how many of you have been in arms reach of riot gear clad officers?

… How about been served lunch by them? HAHA

So today we got up for breakfast, “pancakes & sausage,” normally you put your laundry bag out with breakfast on weekdays. Today the C.O. (Corrections Officer) said “No laundry today gentleman, the machines are down.” I took my tray and proceeded to sit.

“Laundry’s broken. Yeah right, we’re getting shook down. I’m tellin’ you,” said an older guy next to me – a seasoned veteran in jail life. Not something you want to be kids; institutionalized.

We eat, then sit and shoot the shit for a couple of minutes before the C.O. tells everyone to wrap it up and lock it in. After meals we have to go in our cells to clear the common room for the workers to wipe tables, sweet floors and change trash bags. No problem. I go sit on my bunk and wait… 10 minutes… 15 minutes.

“Come on!” My celly is at the door. “What theee fuck are they doing? Everything’s done. Why doesn’t he let us out?” in an irritated Romanian accent, which I find particularly amusing. He bangs on the door, “C.O.! What theee fuuuck!”

“Dude,” I say, “We’re not getting out. Shakedown today. O.G. told me and I think he was right. Broken laundry equals shake down. That way they can count all your belongings to be sure you aren’t hoarding socks or underwear.” He bangs on the door again. I grab a book, got “comfortable” (that’s a relative term in jail) and start reading, since lunch is at 12:30ish I figured we’d be in for at least that long.

So 4 hours, 100 pages and 100 laps of the cell by my celly (8 steps front to back), the main unit door opens… with 3 blacked out guards in full riot ear – Big boots, cargo pants, shin/knee guards, utility belt, flak vest with extra pockets, helmet, face shield, elbow pads, gloves, the whole nine… all black.

Intimidating, right?

Then you see they’re toting a lunch cart. 70 trays, bin of ice, and a container of purple drink. LOL. So the three of them cart over to a cell, yep, they’re doing door to door delivery service. One C.O. guides the cart, another hands the trays and a third scoops ice into our cups. Now, this 3rd C.O. seems a little smaller in stature than the other 2. Short, thin, doesn’t seem to be grunting at everyone as much… It’s a woman. No big deal, we have a few female staff here so it’s nothing surprising. The funny part here is that some inmates get “Kosher” meals, but they have to be heated for two minutes in the microwave to be eaten.

Who gets to be designated meal-eater-upper? You guessed it, the woman C.O. in riot gear. A couple of inmates loved this. “That’s right baby, back in the kitchen!” one yelled. I’m not sexist but this scene just struck me as funny. Of course the two male C.O.’s nominated her for this job, as if the geared-up lunch service wasn’t demoralizing enough for them. “Nice to see our special units are so well-trained… In the kitchen!” hollered another. So, whatever, we got served, ate, and then waited some more.

Another half-dozen C.O.’s come in with their blacked out ninja turtle suits and searched the entire unit, cell by cell. Obviously you’d think they’d be looking for drugs or weapons, but this is a low-level unit so it was more like excessive books or clothes in the cells. No biggie. Life continues. I have to admit, I thought if I ever were to come across riot-gear clad officers, they’d be kicking down my door telling me to get on the ground, not serving me meatballs and sauce.

I made a little sketch to share with you guys my interesting day. Thanks for reading. Until next time, hope everyone is well. Oh, to the poster commenting on grammatical errors, I’m in jail. I can’t fix them and I fully blame my typist as my writing punctuation are always spot on. She must have fucked up “your” & “you’re”… not me. 😉

P.S. Have fun at Fighter Fest bitches!   Take pics for me!

-AFF 6/20/2012