Profiled
As you may already know or suspect, Jeffrey has been back in my life for some time now. Two-and-a-half years actually. He’s presently staying as a guest of Governor Patacki at Auburn Correctional Facility. I get a ride to the prison for visits, usually on the first Tuesday of the month. I visited today.
In every jail and prison, contraband is a way of life within the walls. Anything and everything can be had (well, perhaps not women) and this includes drugs. Drugs frequently enter the prison through the visiting room. Auburn is no exception.
Prison officials must tread a fine line between prison security, including keeping out contraband, and vistors’ civil rights. Until the first of the year, this was limited (in my experience) to emptying your pockets onto a tray, removing your shoes and walking through a metal detector. The CO’s look through your shoes and the stuff from your pockets, stamp your hand and send you on your way. Compared to the Monroe County Jail, or even your friendly local airport, it’s nothing.
Of course the inmates themselves, having given up their civil rights through their conviction, are strip searched when they leave the visiting room to return to their cells.
Anyway, starting this year, Auburn “randomly” screens visitors for drugs. They take you upstairs, swab your palms and fingers, around the outside of your pants pockets and the outside of your shoes. (Apparently being a CO would be a good job for foot fetishists.) The swab is run through some sort of ionizing analyzer and if it says you’re okay, you get to go in to the visit.
Anyway, why did I put “randomly” in quotes and how do I know how the “random” drug screens work? In four visits so far this year, I’ve been “randomly” selected for a drug screen twice. Today was the second one.
I don’t for a minute believe the selection is random. I think I’m profiled based upon my 22” mane.
Even though I can pass a hair test on the full 22” length of my locks, the first time I was profiled… err… selected, I was a bit nervous. Today on the way up the stairs, I told the sergeant I just don’t feel quite as welcome on the days I’m not selected.
“Oh,” he replied. “You’ve done this before?”
“Yeah. In February I think.”
In the office, I sat down in the chair before being told which one, and immediately stuck out my arms, palms up.
The officer administering the test raised an eyebrow and asked, “Have you done this before?”
“Yeah. In February I think.”
A minute later I was back downstairs, the big gate clanging shut behind me on my way to the visiting room with a big smile on my face.
I love fucking up other people’s statistics.
