One thing you quickly learn behind
bars is that inmates always have a plan.
This plan may be as large as beating their charges or as small as getting
an extra lunch tray or brokering a deal for surplus sugar packets in exchange
for salt and pepper. Regardless of how
realistic or outlandish the plan, they will be convinced that it will work,
with the fervor of an evangelical preacher.
What follows is one of my first experiences with a fellow prisoner who
stuck to his plan until the bitter end – while in the meantime mightily amusing
the rest of us.
The
quiet of our 4-man block was broken by the sound of a door opening and a new
guy being dragged down to Cell #5. He
kept asking the C.O. (Corrections Officer), “Can I make a phone call?” He was told that he had a call before coming
down and it wasn’t his time for the phone.
He would have to wait until later.
In this jail, the guards came by
twice per hour. Cell #5 stepped
up his game a bit: “C.O., I gotta call
my Mama!”
“No.”
“C.O.,
can I make a call, I gotta call my Grandmama!”
“No!”
At
this point, one of the guys asked what he was doing, because if he ticked off
the guards, we would ALL feel the repercussions, mainly in the loss of
some privileges. Cell 5 told us not to
worry, adding, “I got a plan!” Well, we
might as well have popped some popcorn to settle in for the show. About an hour later, after dinner trays, #5 once
again called out, “C.O., I don’t feel well!”
The guard came in to ask a few questions. #5 said he was dizzy, warm and thirsty. The guard asked if he needed some ice, or
what would help and, you guessed it, #5 said, “If I could just call my Mom.” The answer was, of course, no, and that he
should shut the ____ up. The rest of us
were now having trouble stifling our laughter.
We figured this to be the end of it, but #5 still had plenty of Plan
left. He had fallen quiet when we next
heard the jiggle of keys signaling the guard’s return. Mildly disappointed, we assumed he had given
up and that the show was over. I would
never again underestimate the power of “A Plan” and the determination to see it
through. As soon as the cell block door
opened, #5 started moaning and clutching his chest like Fred Sanford (for you
younger readers, look up the old tv show Sanford
and Son on the Internet), calling out, “C.O., I think I’m having a heart
attack!”
The
guard was in a tough spot. He probably
figures that the guy is faking, but he can’t take the risk of an inmate dying
on his watch, so he calls the nurse and the show resumes. Within minutes, a nurse, a medic and three
guards come bursting in and open #5’s cell.
If he isn’t having a heart attack, he is putting on a pretty good
impression of one. The nurse finally
decides that this is just a case of indigestion. One inmate points out that #5 did eat
everyone’s serving of butter-soaked, salt-coated collard greens for
dinner. The nurse calmed her patient,
gave him some Maalox and was getting ready to leave when she asked, “Have you
ever had this before?”
To
which #5 replied, “Yeah, you know what would help? If I could call my Mama.” In unison, the guards shouted, “No!”, closed
the cell and stomped off. Any reasonable
person would assume that to be the end of it.
But in here, you have to leave reason at the Cell Block Door. We encouraged the guy to give it up, but he
told us he had one last trick that was sure to work. Next time he heard the guard coming, he
started flipping out, yelling and screaming, banging on the bars. The guard hurried in to see what was up and #5
said the magic words to get attention, “I am going to hurt myself.” In a flash, three guards rushed in and
carried him away kicking, screaming, and
flailing about like a maniac. We all
assumed he had really lost it this time.
Then, at the very last moment before rounding the corner the noise
stopped and we heard, “Before you throw me in the Hole, can I make a phone
call?” Even the guards laughed. And for the record, it did not work – no
phone call!
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