80% of 90: Recollections of a Correctional Center Stay

Introduction
On Wednesday October 28th, I approached the window and told them my name, at precisely 8:54am. The lady on the other side took down my information and told me to have a seat. The bitter after taste of my last cigarette was still lingering in my mouth. It’s a flavor I usually despise, but in this case it was something I wanted to savor just a little bit longer. My father was seated in one of the rows of chairs, and I sat down beside him.

We watched as a heavy set, anxious looking man marched out from behind a heavy wooden door. He had a scruffy goatee and short blonde bangs that hung just above his eyebrows, while his hair hung shoulder length in the back. His eyes were wild looking as he hurriedly made his way around the lobby carrying a large clear plastic bag over his shoulder, like a shopping mall Santa Clause on Adderal. His bag contained an odd assortment of items. Everything from deodorant and tennis shoes, to Ramen noodles and a family sized box of saltine crackers. He walked with purpose to a bank of phones, made a quick call, and headed for the front door as if shot from a cannon. My father and I joked about the odd scene we had just witnessed.
“And did you see the box of crackers?” I asked smiling.
My father chuckled lightly.

I’d had butterflies in my stomach all morning. I was nervous, but also to a certain degree excited. I had no idea what to expect or, for that matter, the type of people I’d encounter. A uniformed woman stepped out from behind a different door and called the name of a man seated in front of me. He was late 30’s, heavier, with a close shaven goatee. As he walked toward the door, she said, in a loud voice even though no one else was there, my name.
“Well Pop?”
“See ya later, kiddo.”

I made my way around the row of chairs and in a moment, as if I’d forgotten something, turned reached back across and shook my father’s hand. I would have liked to hug him, but it was it too late for that and we’ve never been affectionate in that way anyway. I turned toward the doorway, and stepped through. It closed behind me with a loud click. I was officially in jail for 90 days.