Here’s what basically every single day in here is like for me.
5:30 AM, doors crack: The cellblock comes to life as the CO cracks the door. I wake up, brush my teeth, wash my face, and throw on my khaki prison uniform in anticipation of chow call.
6:30 AM, chow call: The PA blares, “Bravo Unit to chow,” and prisoners lazily shuffle out of their cells. I’m always one of the first up. I like to catch Sportscenter before chow. I congregate with all the other sports junkies and gamblers in front of the TV watching ESPN and catching all the scores from the night before as I sip my coffee and smoke my first cigarette of the day, but as soon as they call chow, I’m off. It’s a race to the chow hall.
7:30 AM, work call: I work in the unit as an orderly, a pretty easy job, so I chill as everyone scrambles to work with coffee cups and cigarettes in hand. I do a little cleaning, do some writing in my cell and some exercises to stay fit.
10:30 AM, recall: They call recall late because of some drama over in A-block. “RECALL, RECALL, RECALL,” the PA blares. “All inmates return to your housing unit in preparation for the noon meal.” As dudes come into the block, word of the disturbance filters among the prisoners. It seems some kid from B-More got fucked up pretty bad. Supposedly, he got a hot iron slammed into his face and then got cracked with a lock in a sock.
11:30 AM, noon meal: Finally, at 11:30, they call my unit to chow. The chow hall is buzzing, talking about how the sneak thief got fucked up. All the DC dudes are on their high horse because their homeboy did the honors. The B-More dudes look all fucked up. As I eat what passes for McDonald’s in here I can’t help but think that the trouble’s not over.
12:30 PM, work call: I sweep the top tier in the unit and get permission from my CO to go to the yard on the 1:30 PM move. I stay on the yard until the next recall, just working out and playing handball and bullshitting with my homeboys.
4:00 PM, standing count: All prisoners must be standing up. If you’re not, then you’ll be taken to the hole for interfering with counts. They do this to make sure that everybody is alive. It’s not unheard-of for a dead body to be lying in a bunk all covered up.
4:30 PM, mail call: After count is my favorite part of the day: mail call. I live for the contact with the outside world. Most prisoners don’t get any mail, so it doesn’t take long. I get my USA Today and a couple of magazines plus a few letters. It feels good to be loved. I couldn’t imagine never getting any mail like some of these dudes. I guess that’s just how they’re bidding.
5:00 PM, chow call: At 5 PM they call my block for dinner. There’s still a lot of rumors and speculation that something’s gonna jump off, but nothing happens in the chow hall. They serve baked ziti. It’s OK but it’s no Olive Garden. After dinner I go out to the yard and meet up with a couple of my homies. My team is playing so we make our way to the court. Everybody is sitting around on the yard waiting for something to jump off. I see all the DC dudes and they are pretty deep on the yard. I notice some B-More dudes but there’s not that many of them. I put on my jersey and get ready to ball. A lot of my homeboys and other whites won’t play basketball because they don’t want any contact with blacks, but I’m a jock and always have been so I play. I get some shit from some of the hard-core white dudes for associating with blacks, but they respect me so it’s just some teasing really. They think they can intimidate me I guess, but I was never into all that white-pride prison-gang shit. Plus I love sports. The game starts, but about ten minutes into it the cops are running toward the softball field. It seems it jumped off after all. I glance over and see dudes brandishing bats and swinging them wildly. Somebody’s probably gonna get a cracked head. It looks like a free-for-all. I gather my stuff, take off my jersey, and leave with my homeboys. It’s gonna be an early night for us. Usually recall is at 8:30 PM and lockdown is at 11:30, but the whole compound will get locked down early because of this. We go off and sit on a bench while more cops run into the yard to quell the disturbance. I’m wondering who it is when some white dude comes up and says some dudes are beefing over a softball game. Turns out it isn’t DC—B-More. It will be a while before they call us back to the units, though. Everyone on the rec yard will get frisked and checked for injuries and will be asked to give a statement on what happened. But every con knows the routine. I didn’t see nothing, I didn’t hear nothing, and I don’t know nothing. Just another day in the joint.
SETH FERRANTI
