jail

I spent some time in jail this past semester. I don’t want to go back, really.

Remember that unpaid ticket I wrote about? I never paid it. A warrant was issued and then I got pulled over because one of my breaklights was shining white. (It was broken. Still is, but red duct tape does wonders.) So I’m sitting there in the car and the cop walks up to my window and says, “License and registration, please.”
“Why was I pulled over,” I asked. He told me. “Well, man, I’m gonna be honest: Even if I had my license and registration on me, it wouldn’t do a lot of good.”
And he said, “License suspended or something?”
“Something like that.”
Then he finds out via radio that there’s a warrant out, so he cautiously steps back and asks me to get out of the car. I comply and he cuffs me and searches the car.
Long story short, I spent that night in jail. My sister bailed me out the following morning.

It was an intense experience. No one was roughing me up or any weird shit like that – they were all asleep by the time I got in – but you never know how wonderful the freedom of simply going into another room is until that’s taken away and you’re in a cell with six other guys and nothing to do. About thirty minutes in, I was ready for it to be over. Very surreal. I mean, it was a pretty trivial situation, and anyone who’s done any amount of time would laugh at this, but it sucked really bad. If you can avoid jail, do so.

I hate having nothing to do. Well, I suppose there are always things to do, but I hate having nothing to do that makes me feel productive. I only spent one night in jail physically, but my mind has been keeping me captive for years.

Bleh. Words are folly.