Oftentimes, we find ourselves in a bit of a snag. When I was snared by the claws of the dark side, I got the opportunity to bring you an inside analysis of the Miami County Jail, and its deepest secrets. Here’s what I found.
Upon my arrival, I was amazed to find myself in a very low custody situation. I was barely monitored while they created files and the like for yours truly. I was surprised, my scraggly appearance and cool demeanor should have put fear into the hearts of even the most steadfast on that fateful night. After they completed the necessary paperwork, I was brought into a small room, with only one person to guard me. He gave me the supplies I would need to survive inside what is known as the bull pen, a vicious and malevolent cage of hardened men and twisted minds. He watched as I stripped myself naked, a practice that I personally believe to be an attempt to satisfy their deep sexual desires. I could see it in his eyes, as I stood there naked. He wanted to molest me. Alas, much to his dismay, I proved to be much too intellectual for his lesser mind. I asked him about the standard procedure for this process, and his small but crookedly righteous mind must have registered that he was in over his head with this one. Better to penetrate the next poor soul who crossed paths with the law. Overall, the security of the initial process of locking someone up was dismal.
Next, I was lead to the pin itself. The pin was made of two large square cells, connected in the middle by a door controlled by the guards. In the first room was the shower, tables to eat on, phone, and a small television. The second consisted of bunk beds, capable of housing 16 people total. As the door opened for me to enter, the guard issued a low chuckle and wished me luck. This place was unforgiving. Everyone stared at me for a moment, not sure of what to think of this young man with extensive amounts of hair on his head, unshaved with a slight amount of blood on his face and neck. When the guards had left the room, one of the inmates penetrated the silence with a simple question. “What are you in for?” I gave him a crooked smile, and said “I beat my dad’s ass”, and walked, without hesitation, to my bunk of choice. I must have made quite the impression, as I didn’t receive any static from anyone. I made my bunk and retired for the night, since the whole scene was a bit straining on my mind, and I was slightly intoxicated.
I was awoken, rather abruptly, at 6:00am on the dot. It was time for breakfast. Or what passes for breakfast. I quickly devoured the horrendous muffin and box of cereal that was given to me, and returned to my bunk to sleep. I was not awoken until later that day, when the sun was high in the sky, believing it to be somewhere around noon. I observed the other inmates and their doings, formulating a plot in my mind. I was going to sleep until my release, a daunting feat in the presence of the immoral thoughts that surely haunted the pin. Sleep took me once again.
The next few days were hell. The toilet was often subject to prying eyes (indeed, I was concerned for the well being of my rump), so I decided to only urinate during my stay inside of this little piece of purgatory. Nude pictures drawn by the inmates littered the “bathroom”, and there was little more than a curtain to protect one’s privacy. My hair was atrocious to the point of being frightening, and the food was bloodcurdling. Although each meal was eaten in earnest due to hunger, my taste buds were constantly rebelling against me. Surprisingly enough, I got along well with the other inmates. Many of them offered their advice (however corrupt) and several even took the time to get to know me. This helped to kill the boredom that constantly threatened to take my sanity, and I was able to kill a lot of time with sleep.
After what seemed like an eternity (although it was only three days in reality), my name was called to be released. I gathered my things, said goodbye to the fellow criminals I had befriended, and left without looking back. I was led into that same small room, and this time the guard made no passes at me. Perhaps it was because I had passed the test of survival, and came out with my head held high. My things were returned to me, I signed some paperwork, and I was shown to the door that led to freedom. Freedom at long last.
Taking into consideration the uncanny nature of the guards, my intoxication going unnoticed, and the underlying perverted thoughts that plagued them all, I’d say that the attitude and morals of every single guard at the Miami County Jail could be greatly improved. The food was ghastly, and although this was expected, this IS a review. The grub is in much need of improvement. Overall, the security was lazy and seemingly not used to those who would try to escape. The housing was decent (at least we had a television), but the lavatory could do with some improvement. Where the County Jail really shines is with the inmates. Perhaps it was due to my darker nature, but the whole stay was relatively buddy buddy. Overall, I give the Miami County Jail a 1.78 popcorn bags out of 4.