8:00: check-in and proceed to the hard plastic chair room with lisa. there is a young woman, 22 years of age at most, who confesses she has been crying and waiting to be released since midnight. the last thing she remembers is having margaritas at a sports bar, leaving, and then crashing her car into a telephone pole one block from her house. despite being a dental assistant with a 9-5 working job, she manages a secret meth-smoking habit and keeps it hidden from both her boyfriend AND employer. lisa and i offer our condolences and help her find a glass of water. it's funny how much people will reveal their dirty laundry in this setting...
10:00: strip search. i instantly become a believer in the "third time's a charm" theory. our guard is easy-going, and her unobtrusiveness in maintaining a distance of four feet between her head and my ass hole is greatly appreciated. i feel so pampered.
10:30: we are escorted to cell unit A, which is the unit from my first stay at multnomah county's finest. i am directed to my cell block and, as an ex-super 8 motel employee, i can see that the maid service took the day off. there are seven empty maxi-pad boxes strewn about the cell, two pairs of sopping wet jail-issued underpants, a old orange peel, and an empty carton of chocolate milk. also, the last guest must have decided to see what happens when you stick feminine pads to the toilet seat because there is sticky goo all over it. in paging the guard, i am given a pair of rubber gloves, a bottle of bleach solution, and "10 minutes only" to clean the room. the adhesive on the toilet seat will not free itself, so i make an 8-layer deep toilet paper seat that stays in place for the next 28 hours.
11:00: a new inmate is placed in the cell block next to mine. i have no idea what she looks like. the only thing i can determine is that she is COMPLETELY LIVID to have ended up in jail because she moans, screams "fuck!!" every two minutes, and kicks (or punches? or throws her body weight?) against the door between screams. it sounds like she's either giving birth to a sea monster or has a serious case of turrett's syndrome. some of her thrashing is so loud i half expect her to come flying through the wall and end up on the floor of my cell. somehow, through the madness happening next door, i am able to fall asleep until lunch.
12:30: lunch. there are two slices of wheat bread on the tray, and a scoop of pulverized meat salad. i literally can not tell if it's supposed to be chicken, ham, or tuna. it has the texture of wet cedar shavings and the flavor of white distilled vinegar. in another compartment there is a pinto bean salad with dehydrated celery in it, and, in the next, macaroni salad. it is so tangy that i find myself thanking god my mother wasn't the type to make me wash my mouth out with dish soap because i think this is what it might taste like.
1:30-2:45: walk time. i finally figure out the story of the woman in the cell next to mine. it turns out my theories were incorrect. evidently, she shot up two 8-balls of meth right before being arrested and is now in the "giddy" phase, according to one of the inmates. her hairdo is the best case of rat's nest i have ever seen, and her bodily movements are the humpty dance times a thousand. i don't think i've ever seen a human being move that many body parts, that quickly, at once. somehow, despite lisa and i sitting mere feet from her, the meth lady manages to put her hand down her pants and masturbate in the tv room and we miss the entire ordeal.
3:00-5:45: fortunately, the ruth reichl book i started two weeks ago is still on the shelf, and i pick up where i left off. i make it about 50 pages and fall back asleep. again.
6:00: dinner. another unidentifiable meat product is on the plate, this time mixed with rice. i believe it to be some form of "spanish rice" because it's sitting in a swimming pool of pinto beans, this time seasoned with cumin. the cooks tonight must have taken pity on us for being in jail on such a beautiful summer evening, because they also served the vegetable of the day in a swimming pool of pepper water. it only makes me wish i was on a beach somewhere, so i suppose the theme is effective. i'm not sure it touched the meth lady next door, because her giddiness has worn off and she's back to kicking and screaming again.
8:00: walk time again. about ten of us watch the B.E.T. (black entertainment television) music awards. bel biv devoe does a performance of "poison", which inspires half of the room, myself included, to sing along. "she's drivin' me out of my head...that's why it's hard for me to find... can't get it out of my mind... that girl is poooiison..". for three minutes, i actually forget i'm in jail.
9:00-10:00: rec time. back to the smelly gym from my first stay here. i decide to work on my abs and legs. i feel like there's no better time than now to take the time to get in shape. unfortunately, the other six days of my life i am not in the mood for leg lifts and crunches, so i spend the entire hour doing this. near the end of rec time, lisa and i have a conversation with a girl who claims to have, in one week, had a miscarriage, lost her mother to a fatal illness, and divorced her husband to be with a woman. this story may have been believable, except for the fact that it was followed by a tale about her last husband allowing 27 men to gang rape her on her birthday. i think i hear a cry for sympathy. lisa and i do not budge.
10:00-8:00am: after tossing and turning all night while i anxiously wait to hear those four precious words- "larson, roll 'em up", i'm still here and it's breakfast time! all i can think about is a cigarette, a shower, and the person picking me up from jail. breakfast is horrifying. it's gruel again, served with another one of those petrified biscuits i had last week with the ham glue. this time it's served with packets of syrup and whipped butter, which makes it almost tolerable. somehow, i'm given the same tray i had two weeks ago, which has the phrase "SC EATS SHIT" carved into the plastic- as though i needed a reminder of what i'm ingesting. the coffee served in jail has no caffeine content, and the thought of a strong cup of stumptown is making my mouth water.
8:00-10:45: more sleep, followed by FINALLY GETTING OUT!!!
after week three of spending the night here, i am emotionally and mentally troubled enough to truly see that jail-life is a sad, depraved culture of its own. it is made up, mostly, of people that really don't have any idea how to stop breaking the law and who will probably end up spending the rest of their lives in and out of this place. my eyes have been opened to the idea that punishment, though it may only really hit the nail on the head of a few, can genuinely change the course of someone's path. it certainly has mine.
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