Review: The Roanoke County Jail
My day couldn't have started any better. Okay, that's an exaggeration, but it was working out pretty well. I started imbibing - moderately at first - right at the one o'clock kickoff for the Redskins-Packers game. The first half was pretty sorry, with Green Bay manhandling Washington, but the second half picked up the pace, and the Redskins went down to a glorious loss, 28-14. See, the game had a political significance, as any political football junkie will tell you. From Reuters:
The Washington Redskins lost their final home football game before the U.S. presidential election on Sunday -- and that's great news for Democratic Sen. John Kerry and bad news for President Bush. In every presidential election since 1936, the Redskins' last home game has accurately predicted the winner. If they win, the incumbent president's party wins. If they lose, the challenger wins.
People were definitely cheering across party lines, with both teams picking up new fans with questionable motives. A fine time may not have been had by all, but it sure was by me, and a tidy trail of drafts, screwdrivers, and Kamikazes followed me into the early evening. Around 5:00, the crew at Macados commenced howling with great regularity. I'll admit that I was head cheerleader in this effort, but the rest of the folks did me proud with their Wolfman cries. Ahrooo! Ahrooo! Our Halloween cries spilled happily into the street.
And so it was that the Annster came to save my bacon, less I were to plow down trick or treaters by the score on my way back home. Unfortunately, she had a chance meeting with another car at a particularly evil intersection, and the police arrived faster than police ever do in real emergencies. In the spirit of the holiday, they felt that she should be dressed in cuffs, although due to budgetary constraints, the costume ended here. Taking umbrage at this bit of manhandling, I interjected myself into the situation. Immediately they decided to see if that was a banana in my pocket or I was just happy to see them. They confiscated my banana, cuffed me (not the cute, fur-lined cuffs I prefer, but a nasty little plastic jobber.)
And off I went for Halloween in the Hoosegow. Rude, rude, rude these people were, even though, I must admit, I was not the world's most pleasant captive. Well, so what? I'm spoiled, arrogant, and have a sharp tongue at times, particularly when it has been loosened so thoroughly. One huge copper correctly diagnosed my problem - "He's probably voting for Kerry." Police work really helps you develop insight into people.
My accommodations were just deplorable, lowest rating, one star out of five. And the view! Listen, if I go to jail, I want a place with bars, where I can at least amuse myself by watching the other inmates. This was a big white concrete holding cell with five filthy green mats on the floor. (or as we inmates call them, beds). Did I say no bars? No windows, either, except for one of those little sliding things which you use to see if Hannibal Lecter is still inside. Total visual deprivation. But there was a nice bright light which allows you to study the intense whiteness of the concrete.
What else do we have in the way of accommodations? Mmm, a nice one way mirror, so you can get a good look at your sorry self. (I did spend a bit of time making faces at it.) One of those 7-11 style mirrors so you can't scrunch yourself into a tiny ball, hide in the corner, and pounce on an unsuspecting guard. And the cutest little chrome toilet that you wouldn't set your ass on for a million bucks (okay, I exaggerate. Fifty woulda done the trick.)
All in all, I don't recommend this place for anyone but the most hardcore confinement aficionados. Frankly, I was quite pleased when eight o'clock rolled around and they gave me my shoes back. Along with my money, which they had kindly converted into a county check, which as they told me, "you can cash anywhere" - except, perhaps with a taxi driver; no problem at all, since you don't get a quarter to call one with. |
