At Last, A Bottom Bunk!

My cellmate goes home next week.  He’s a good kid who made a huge mistake of age 17, resulting in 8 years in prison.  Now 25, he is ready to get on with his future.  I’m happy for him.  I wish him luck and hope he leads a successful life.  He’s been a good Cellie, and when he goes I’ll have to adjust to living with someone new.  That said, his release also brings me a great reward:  I get to move to the bottom bunk!

In an earlier post, I discussed the hierarchy of prison perks, and as you may recall at the peak of that pyramid is bottom bunk, two man cube, backside of the building.  This is the prison equivalent of beachfront real estate in Malibu.  A BIG deal!  In fact as an example of how boring our lives in prison are, guys have discussed dreaming about getting a bottom bunk.  Paying for them if necessary.

So I’m counting down seven days until my first night’s sleep in almost two years not being up top and on display to nearly two hundred other guys.  It calms me just to think about it.  And then there’s this windfall:  I was just allowed a brass belt buckle, replacing the cheap plastic one I’ve had until now.  What’s that old saying that good things happen in threes?  What could come next?  Maybe – could it be? – a pass for early chow?

So, please don’t think poorly of me, but next week when we’re celebrating my Cellie’s departure with noodles and cake, a part of me will also be reveling in my own good fortune!