Gum sells for $1.00 a stick," Dad signed to me during my first ever trip to visit him in prison last Christmas. I dutifully noted this fact and vowed to try my best to smuggle in a jumbo pack during my next scheduled visit.
So, two Sundays ago I acted as cool as a cucumber while being scanned for weapons in the security hut.
"BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!" Shrieked the wand. I tensed up. It had cried out its warning sound precisely where my gum was hidden. Please don't look. Please don't look. Please don't look.
"It's just your belt buckle," she casually informed me.
Really? Because I wasn't wearing a belt. Success!
I ventured my way inside and anxiously waited for Dad to come into view. I made chit chat with the guards, eager to make their friendship and gain their trust. After all, they might be the same men who detain me if my contraband was discovered.
Dad looked good. Better than I remembered from our last behind glass face-to-face. Perhaps I've gotten used to the image of him with yellowed and missing teeth, broken glasses and covered in jailhouse tattoos.
We hugged. Our first embrace since Christmas 1997. Quick and meaningless really. I imagined it would have meant more to him, touch from a loved one. But he was casual and so I mimicked his behavior. Hey, if he didn't care, why the fuck should I? Or did he sense the guards watching our every move and decide brevity was best?
We headed out into the prison yard for our four hour visit; Juicy Fruit safely tucked away inside the waistband of my cropped jeans from Express.
So, two Sundays ago I acted as cool as a cucumber while being scanned for weapons in the security hut.
"BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!" Shrieked the wand. I tensed up. It had cried out its warning sound precisely where my gum was hidden. Please don't look. Please don't look. Please don't look.
"It's just your belt buckle," she casually informed me.
Really? Because I wasn't wearing a belt. Success!
I ventured my way inside and anxiously waited for Dad to come into view. I made chit chat with the guards, eager to make their friendship and gain their trust. After all, they might be the same men who detain me if my contraband was discovered.
Dad looked good. Better than I remembered from our last behind glass face-to-face. Perhaps I've gotten used to the image of him with yellowed and missing teeth, broken glasses and covered in jailhouse tattoos.
We hugged. Our first embrace since Christmas 1997. Quick and meaningless really. I imagined it would have meant more to him, touch from a loved one. But he was casual and so I mimicked his behavior. Hey, if he didn't care, why the fuck should I? Or did he sense the guards watching our every move and decide brevity was best?
We headed out into the prison yard for our four hour visit; Juicy Fruit safely tucked away inside the waistband of my cropped jeans from Express.
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