Alarming Initial Experience (Prison Chronicles #2)
Zero Nephilim, but One Klutz
Sorry. I left you “hanging” at the end of installment #1 of this “serial drama.” The first time I went into the prison, I set off my alarm. But first, let me tell you what led up to that:
Since all I knew about prison (or thought I knew) was what I had seen on TV and in movies, I expected to get the evil eye from gangs of Nephilim (giant musclebound meanies) as I walked through the prison. Thus, my eyes were wide open and my head was on a swivel. I was (mentally) prepared to be attacked at any time, and my alarm was on a “hair trigger.”
The reality is that prisons in California no longer allow the detainees access to weight-lifting equipment, so there was nary a Nephilim to see. As far as the evil eye, or menacing stares, that I somewhat expected, I saw none of that, either. Still, I was, if not sweating bullets, at least perspiring BBs.
So with everything going better than expected, how was it that I triggered the alarm?
As we were leaving, one of the detainees who had been in the meeting we conducted (I was there with two other gents) approached me and wanted to shake my hand. I had the alarm in my hand, and somehow while fumbling with my ID, the alarm, and the handshaking business, I accidentally pressed the button on the alarm. I didn’t realize that I had done it, though — in fact, I had no clue anything was amiss until gates on both sides of us automatically shut, descending from the ceiling until they slammed into place on the concrete floor. We three were “trapped” inside an area about the size of an average living room. The guards — actually, they’re called C.O.s (Correctional Officers), but guards will suffice, I think — sprung into action, of course, looking for the cause of the alarm.
When the guards were able to satisfy themselves as to the cause of the alarm, one of them walked up to us and said, “It was one of you guys that set it off.” I’m not sure it was me; it could have been one of the other two, because they also (as recommended) had alarms. There’s a good chance it was one of them; I would estimate the chances of it being me as only approximately 99.9%.
That wasn’t the only time I set off the alarm, though. It happened maybe a year or two later during one of the meetings that we conduct. The alarm was in either my shirt or coat pocket and I somehow bumped it hard enough to set it off. Again, the guards stormed in like edge rushers rabidly seeking a quarterback sack, and although I told them everything was fine and apologized for inadvertently tripping the alarm, they still (according to protocol) had to look through the entire area to make sure everything was hunky dory.
There was one other time I almost set off the alarm, and that time would have been on purpose. I threatened to do so.
I will write about that in the next exciting episode of The Prison Chronicles.