Lessons from a jail cell

Recently I had the privilege of spending the evening with the fine, upstanding inmates of the Tippecanoe County Jail. Was I there on business, possibly for a story, you might ask? With a hearty laugh I respond no, I was not there merely to chat with the good people of Cell Block Seven. \nIn fact, I was there because I violated the law. Apparently the police in West Lafayette frown on that age-old practice of urinating on trees. They did not find my urinary event particularly beneficial to that poor, parched tree. Nor did they find this act particularly funny. \n Personally, I feel that the officer became insanely jealous upon seeing my above-average sized willy and his only form of recourse was to unjustly arrest me. But that's just between you and me.\nWhatever the real reason for my arrest, the official charge was public intoxication. I decided this officer was playing some sort of publicly funded practical joke on me. So I played along by remaining silent until I got to the station.\nAt the station, the seriousness of this matter hit me. As I was being outfitted in my orange jumpsuit and gators, I took the opportunity to try to reason with my arresting officer:\nMe: You know, lots of people urinate on trees, and …\nHim: Shut up.\nMe: OK.\nObviously there was a communication gap here; I could see this was going nowhere. I resorted to my extensive repertoire of curse words, which didn't help my situation. \nBut this chat with the officer allowed me to pass on to you two golden nuggets of advice: 1) Never make fun of an officer's mustache; it is a part of their uniform, much like tall black boots on a hooker. 2) Never insult the jail staff before they set your bail.\nAs I was being led to my cell, I couldn't help but feel a little like Snoop Dogg in my bright orange suit. Sure, he's a bit taller and a bit blacker than me, but we're both hardened criminals. I began to hum "Murder was the Case" softly as the electronically secured cell door swung open.\nThen I realized this was going to suck more than I had thought. The cell was 8x8 with a maximum capacity of four people -- yet there were nine other guys in there that night. I humbly took the only spot left on the floor … right next to the toilet. Not cool. \nI did talk with my cellmates quite a bit that night. They seemed like nice guys, for the most part. The majority had kids and girlfriends. These were family men, I thought. So I figured I'd ask them a few questions about their situation. It went a little something like this:\nMe: How'd you end up in here?\nLeroy: My cousin Lorenzo had told me to take his car. So I'm at Taco Bell and the pigs cuff me up. They told me my cousin's car that I was s'posed to be watchin' was stolen. Man, that's the third time he done that to me! Damn!\nMe: That sucks.\nMe: What are you in here for, bro?\nBob: This area we now call North America used to be called Turtle Island. The Great Spirit talked to the turtle and they agreed the white man was evil. I am white, but I feel the Great Spirit meant for me to be part Lakota Indian.\nMe: Right.\nYou see, guys in jail are adept at the art of talking. They really have nothing else to do. Besides listening to their tales of wrongful convictions, I also spent some time critiquing their tattoos and drawings of the female anatomy. It was a learning experience.\nThe police there were not interested in protecting the public from me, or me from the public. I think they just wanted my money. They would've let me go if I had been able to make bail on the spot. Doesn't this defeat the purpose of holding someone until they sober up?\nI urge you all to boycott my sentence by never visiting West Lafayette or Tippecanoe County. It is boring, and the people are ugly. Plus the trees are all dry and dead despite my best efforts to hydrate them. God bless IU and freedom!