This past weekend I made a visit to prison to visit a member of my family staying there. I won’t go into detail about the specifics about how this person is related to me or how they ended up in prison, but the visit is fair game.
First of all, I went to visit this person, whom we will call Roger, wearing what I considered pretty casual attire: jeans, a t-shirt and flip flops. Now, I had been warned that shorts were not allowed so I packed a pair of sneakers just in case the flip flops weren’t kosher, and they weren’t. What was more surprising though is that my shirt didn’t fly because you could see my bra through it. Now to be clear, I was not slutting it up in any regards. After all, I was visiting family! But it was a white shirt with a white bra underneath and, as any girl can affirm, sometimes you can just see bras through shirts. So I had to wear a cardigan into the prison. My mom also came wearing flip flops and because she had no other shoes to change into, the prison guard sent her to Wal-Mart to go buy some close-toed shoes.
After being scanned for drugs and metal and stamped, my little group of four was sent through gate one to have our stamped hands checked (by the woman who had just stamped them…) and then through gate two. After crossing through a courtyard, we went to check point two where we signed in and had our stamps checked again. Then we went through gate three, followed soon after by gate four, only to have our hands check YET AGAIN.
Upon entering the visiting room, we were directed towards an area of seats to wait for Roger. Now on TV when you visit inmates you always sit at a picnic table of sorts. At this prison it was more like an airport lounge with just rows and rows of seats. When Roger came out to talk with us he was allowed to stand as he greeted (hugged) us and then had to remain seated, lest it look like we were slipping him some weapons or goodies.
It seemed that we could have visited with Roger for as long as we wanted. We stayed for a few hours and no one interrupted us. In fact, our visit only ended when it did because the prison was such a long drive for all of us to get to. On our way out, Roger was again able to stand to say goodbye to us and then we went through a reverse four gates and three stamp checks. The best was after the second gate when we were back out in the courtyard we had to wait at a line painted on the sidewalk. A guard in a watchtower (like in Shawshank Rdemption!) waved us through the gate.
General observations from the day:
- All of the prisoners get jobs, which is a way for them to earn nominal spending money. Roger is a tutor for people getting their GEDs. One man worked as a photographer talking snapshots of people visiting with their friends and family. I understand that if you were in prison for a long time, you would want pictures of your loved ones to look at. But, um, couldn’t they send you ones taken outside of prison? It just seems like an odd thing to capture on film.
- Prison issued glasses are a punishment in themselves.
- I visited Roger because he’s family and it seemed like the nice, right thing to do. However, after I left the prison, he had to be strip searched before he could go back to his cell. After he is out, I intend to ask him if it was worth it.
- Small children visiting their family in prison are just sad.
