Jun 22, 2006

Seven minutes too late

Things didn't go as planned tonight. I missed visiting hours at the prison.

A couple of months ago, I would never have written that sentence. That was before a friend of mine was arrested on some serious charges. Since then, I've learned the basics of visiting at the prison: That you need to be on the inmate's visitor's list; that different cell blocks have different schedules; that you need to show a picture ID at each visit; that you can't bring a cell phone into the prison.

There are lockers in the lobby where you can put the contents of your pockets; the locker key must be the only thing in your pocket when you enter the visiting area. The booths are just like you see on TV. You're on the other side of thick glass, and you talk through telephones with lousy sound. You sit on stainless steel. On the other side, there's a lot more stainless steel, and a lot more restrictions, naturally. That's what prison is.

But it hits home in a new way when you see how how hungry an inmate is for a visit, as well as for mail, and of course that's only the beginning of the limits he's under. I schedule one or two visits a week; there are limited evening hours and none on the weekend.

I had reminded myself about the vist often throughout the day. I even set the alarm on my cell phone. The timing would work out perfectly, unlike so many days during baseball season. Ethan didn't have a game. Emmett's game was at 7:00; I'd drop him off a little before 6:00, then go straight up to the prison.

But as the time drew near, I simply forgot about the prison until there were only a few minutes until 6:00. I jumped in the car with a slim chance of making it—until I realized that I didn't have my license (you have to supply a picture ID, remember?). I turned back to get it and didn't reach the prison until about 6:07. The guard on duty didn't buzz me through the front door. She apologized and said I'd have to come back another time—but next time before the hour. I turned on my heel to go.

Restricitions. Even visitors face them.

Still, I should have been on time, so ... Keith, Ya Goof!

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