Starvation Mode

I began to talk to my new associate during the daily Golden Hour after that coffee / honey bun trade. Conversations were always brief, since our main focus was on getting to the shower and the phone. It felt good to talk to someone I could relate to for a change. I find that I have nothing in common with the Muslim drug dealers I keep getting for cellmates.

The weekend finally came around, which meant total lockdown for two days in a row. There is no Golden Hour on Saturday or Sunday. I guess the cops deserve a break from unlocking our cells and watching us walk around for an hour. Lazy b*****ds. Of course, the weekend is the worst stretch of time to be in the ADC. Without that one little hour of recreation a day, time seems to flow backwards in here. I could have sworn I took a nap on Sunday the 12th, and woke up to find it was Saturday the 11th . . .

So I was locked securely in my cell all day Saturday, and it sucks to be bored AND hungry. When dinner finally came around, I scarfed down the wimpy spaghetti meal they gave me in about 2.5 seconds. My stomach growled at me like, “Was that IT?” Yeah, that was it. Now I was angry on top of everything else. They keep me locked up in this tiny cell, and then they feed me this microscopic spaghetti dinner in which they’ve boiled the noodles for so long that they’ve turned into mush. I pushed my tray through the slot in the door and climbed back in my bunk. Maybe I could sleep from 5:00 pm till breakfast in the morning. FAT CHANCE.

When the orderly came by to collect my tray (yeah, there are a few lucky people who get to walk around), he pushed a new tray in after he collected my old one. “I was told to give this to the little guy,” he said to my cellmate.

The “little” guy? Hey, I’m NOT little; my height is . . . average. I’ll forgive the slight however, since the tray contained another spaghetti dinner! I gratefully consumed it, and my stomach gave me a pleasant response.

(Internal fuel level now at 50%. Standing down from Starvation Mode.)

When you’re only taking a small dump once every THREE DAYS, you aren’t getting enough food. My celly told me that he thought I was an alien because he had never seen me have a bowel movement. I just can’t bring myself to eat most of the food here. It’s that bad. Looking back, the cuisine was a lot better in Texas.

On Sunday, I got extra trays for lunch AND dinner. I could get used to this! I could come up with only one conclusion for the anonymous blessing: my new pal was sending me his trays for some reason. I wasn’t able to confirm this until the Golden Hour on Monday, but I had guessed correctly. He hated the food here as much as I did, and he was sending me his unwanted meals. So, what was HE eating?? I made him accept a Snickers bar for his consideration (we get commissary on Monday morning), and I gave him a heartfelt thank you.

It looks like I may have encountered someone that I will be calling a friend in the near future.