My Jail Time (Part 3)

As I was escorted down the hallway of the jail, I looked at the other people who were in the cells. They had had a drug bust that night and every single jail cell had someone in it.

For some reason, I don’t think they were very happy to be there, because as we passed, they started calling the officers some not very nice names, which just added to my terrifiedness. I couldn’t believe that this was happening to me!

The officers soon realized that there wasn’t a free cell to put me in and so they made the decision to put me into a solitary confinement cell. That scared the absolute living daylights out of me but would much rather be there than in one of those cells with those delightful, mature, cultured, well-mannered and well-spoken drug abusers. Just in case you couldn’t tell, that was sarcasm people. I doubt Martha Stewart ever saw the kind of conditions that I saw!

As I was introduced to my warm, comfy room scented with cinnamon (sarcasm again) I looked around at my surroundings. There were two bunk beds folded down from the wall and a small sink. The roomed was metal and painted an off-white color. Scratched into the paint were foul words and obscenities that weren’t very complimentary to our justice system or towards the police. In the door was a slot with a flap, kinda like a mail slot that you would find in an older home.

I crawled up on to the top bunk, leaned against the wall and hugged my knees. The officer told me that he was going to process my paperwork and that he would be back in a while. As I sat there, I kept telling myself not to cry. “Debbie, you are no longer a little girl, you need to be mature about this. Act like an adult because you are an adult, right? Waaa…..I don’t want to be an adult!! “ Some tears began to roll down my cheeks.

After what seemed like an eternity, I could hear footsteps coming down the hall. The flap in the mail slot opened and an officer handed me the receiver of a phone. (this was the age of dinosaurs and there was no such thing as a cell phone)

I got off my bunk bed and went over to the door and took the phone. The officer told me that I could make one phone call and who did I want to call?

MY DAD, MY DAD, MY DAD!! My Dad and I were very, very close and he was my knight in shining armor so I told the officer that I wanted to call my dad and my boyfriend. Then he wanted to know which one I wanted to call first. Even though every fibre of my being was screaming to call my dad, he WAS thousands of miles away and probably couldn’t be much help , so I decided that my one phone call would be to my boyfriend.

Now remember, that the officer is on one side of the door holding the phone and I am on the other side of the door holding the receiver with the cord coming through the mail slot. He asked me what my boyfriends number was and he dialed the phone. I was huddled up next to this metal door and held the receiver to my ear.

It was now VERY late at night and I was so relieved to hear my boyfriend’s voice on the other end.

With my chin quivering (still trying not to cry) in my most mature voice, I told him that I was in jail.

“JAIL?? What are you doing in JAIL?”

“I didn’t register my car and this police officer came and put me in a car and took me to jail and I’m in this cell and you need to come and get me RIGHT NOW!” (breathe out)

“Geez Debbie, Johnny Carson is on right now. I’ll come and get you when it’s over.”

“WHAT???”

~TO BE CONTINUED~