CRAPPING IN THE JOINT

Unlike state prison where inmates frequently have their own cells (however spartan), federal inmates - and especially those at MCC - aren't offered that luxury. You're either in a dormitory - or in my case, a unit with 46 two man cells which feature bunk beds and literally 40 square feet of space in which to move. Club Med it ain't! 

And because the prison administration recognizes how uncomfortable and old that can get in a hurry, they'll let inmates move around with relative impunity in the interest of not having one prisoner slit the throat of another (something that's happened in the past). As a result, I had 6 different cellies (also called bunkies) in my 311 days at MCC.

So really...what do you look for in a bunky when you choose one? Some of this isn't so obvious. Of my 6 "partners," three snored horribly, one moderately, and two not at all. First and foremost, I wanted a guy who didn't make any noise while he slept. I did manage to get some sleep with the snorers, but it was mind over matter. At one point, I had a nightmare that hyenas were snapping at my feet only to wake up to the bizarre apnea sounds my bunky was making! And that wasn't even why I eventually left him.

But more paramount than the snoring problem, was the crapping situation. My last bunky was a nightmare on so many levels I can't even begin to describe the pathology that defined Chan (autism and obsessive compulsive disorders just for starters). But he had one thing going for him that trumped all. He had no problem when I needed to take a crap. In fact, we made jokes about assaults on the bowl and depth charges. 

I should mention that there was no separate bathroom where you could shit in privacy for as long as you liked. In that 40 or so square feet you called home, lived a toilet. And it was crap there or hold it for a year. We did rig up lines and sheets to afford a measure of privacy. But still, the order of the day was to leave the room when your bunky had to do his business. Again, with Chan, it didn't matter. In fact, we often had animated conversations while I crapped. It was morning time and he was wide awake. But he didn't seem to care enough to leave. And I didn't mind him staying as he wasn't uncomfortable at all while I took a dump.

The issue was so in the forefront of inmates' minds that one day down at suicide watch, a fellow inmate who was down for murder (and watching rather than being watched), confided that his greatest fantasy was to take a dump in privacy without a time limit. Not pussy...or freedom...or winning the lottery. Just a dump in comfort was his particular desire.

While I was fine with Chan chatting away while I squeezed one off, I wasn't happy about all the officers who walked into my cell while I was sitting on the bowl. Obviously, there are no locks on the doors. And usually, you'd hang a piece of toilet paper outside your cell door to signify you were on the bowl. But trust me, that didn't stop the authorities from barging in. One time I actually yelled at the warden when he walked into my cell as I was throning away. Richards (a CO) interrupted me so many times, I kidded him about his intentions. And once a female even interrupted my biological function.

This morning while I was sitting on the bowl reading a book as I slowly evacuated my system, the luxury of having no time limit and total privacy was not lost on me. Ya know...I'd like to smoke a little pot...and see a couple of convicted felons from my amorous past. But no way I'm gonna risk either of those. And ya know why? Because a) it's against the rules of my probation and b) I like shitting in peace. You get the idea.