Moving Day

Once word of a huge rideout started circulating the yard, I knew it was my time. I’d been at the same joint for over four years, and just the week prior I was randomly moved to the ganglands of G-unit from the semiretirement home of B. Usually, moves aren’t done for no reason.

When Monday night came, I saw that I had a call out to see the nurse in the gym the following morning, and my suspicion was confirmed. I was going. My stomach swelled with butterflies at the thought. It wasn’t so much I was going to a new spot, which I rather looked forward to, but that moving itself was such a pain in the ass. Plus, I was comfortable where I was at.

My daily reading that morning was titled “Embrace Everything That Happens To You,” so I was determined to make the best of it. After seeing the nurse, I was instructed to pack all my belongings into a little green duffle bag, which turned out to be a challenge.

In the hours long process, I gave away a dozen books, some new thermals, an old sweatshirt, and some Nike’s. I blessed my homeboy with my typewriter, because whenever you arrive at a new place, they’ll do a thorough examination of your belongings and crosscheck it with what they have on file. You may sneak some clothes thru, but for any major electronics like a TV or typewriter, you can fuhgeddaboutit. 

Before turning my property in, I changed into my paper-thin blues with no shorts on underneath, feeling naked. (Wearing shorts under everything and at all times is one the first marks of institutionalization.) For the next day and a half, I waited around for them to call us upfront for the ride out, with no deodorant or shower shoes available, working up a stink. In the meantime, I said my goodbyes, and ensured my fantasy football league stayed in good hands.

Not knowing where I was going, and not wanting to shit on the bus, I took a laxative the night before, so I could do my business first thing upon waking up. Unfortunately, that plan backfired, and I spent that morning on the can red faced and frustrated, unable to muster even a little rabbit pellet.

When we were finally called to go, we first had to wait in the gym as they called us one by one to be strip searched. After a few years in prison, you get used to the fact that you’ll have to get butt ass naked for another man at a moment’s notice, so he can comb thru your clothes and look for anything hiding under your package or hanging out of your ass. 

Afterwards, we were escorted to the visiting room to sit around for another two hours for the bus to arrive. When it finally did, the three transport officers had to shackle each one of us, which took another 45 minutes. Naturally, it was this point I felt the laxative kick in, and started farting uncontrollably.

Luckily, we didn’t have to wear to the shackles around our ankles; our hands were cuffed at our waist, around which a chain was locked. Still, nothing makes you feel more like a hardened criminal than those shackles.

The bus was cramped, frigid, and miserable. There was no heat, and spent the first half hour shivering. The hard plastic seats were set so near together that my knees banged against the row ahead, and was nearly in the lap of the guy sitting next to me. Worst of all, he was the guy I spent all morning despising, as he’d talk shit under his breath anytime a guard gave instructions, and then yell obscenities whenever they turned their back. All I could think was: punk bitches like him are why we don’t have good time. 

I couldn’t even enjoy the scenery as the little slit windows were so fogged up with condensation. On the other hand, the bus was designed so only narcoleptics could fall asleep–you’re squeezed together in the fetal position from the lack of space. All the while, I’m squeaking out farts with enough discipline to not shit my pants. I spent most of the hour and a half ride praying for an end to this prairie-dogging hell.

When it finally did, we were again escorted to another freezing gym and unshackled, and lined up to be strip searched a second time, a prospect met with jeers and groans. The gym was so cold, someone yelled out, “Damn dawg I’m all shrunk up, why you wanna see me naked?” 

Afterwards, I was given a bed roll, sent to my bunk, and was finally able to relieve myself in the unit. Laying down that night, id never been so thankful for the 2 inch thick mattress, hoping I’d never have to go thru that ordeal again, or at least for a couple years.

1 Comment

  1. Dot Says... says:

    Reading this is heartbreaking. To be denied heat is just not right on any level. I have written to my state numerous times regarding this matter. I think I read you were in Michigan? Insanity you have no heat. I am really sorry you went through what sounds like the entrance to hell! Hang tough. Hugs ❤️


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