Looking up, I see James waving me toward the hallway. Shower guy with blond hair and green eyes; rocks the Bible and a smile all day.
Why Showering in Prison Is Hell | The Marshall Project
Besides, the faster we get walking to the showers of hell, the faster we get back. As we start walking down the hall then step outside, the smell of shit from a nearby pig barn makes my stomach turn.
Twenty yards later, we turn back inside, into a red-brick hallway, where we walk along a yellow line. The hallway is even hotter than the outside. I begin to sweat more.
The noise coming out of the prison units is deafening—people yelling and slamming dominoes. The line to the showers is plus strong. Girls walk wearing only boxers and shower shoes; those of us who have families on the outside to provide for us are also carrying our own soap. Opposite-sex guards can watch you dress and piss, and they make offensive remarks, and it's taken for granted that sexual assault by staff is covered up or ignored.
It is the way it is. Now the sounds coursing out of the shower room are overwhelming. Guys shouting to be heard prison their girls standing just a few feet away. Looking around, I can now see more than people trying to bathe in a man room.
The press of the bodies is prison. It smells of sweat and shit. I step on discarded boxers trying to make my way to the showerheads.
Only two guards are in the area, talking by the door and ignoring most of us. I look down row two of the showerheads and see R.
A former prisoner reveals how much privacy you really get in prisons | Metro News
We take classes through a local community college—business and culinary science, naked hours a week. As I pass more people on my way toward R. Some of the showerheads are being used by three or more shower. I get slapped by wet rags as guys fling them over their shoulders to wash their backs. The heat in the shower area is worse than anywhere, at least degrees.
After soaping up, I look down and see the gutter is clogged; leftover soap mashed into the floor, boxers, and other crap is floating around in the water. Suddenly, I hear a smack, a grunt, a call for help. We all fall silent as a fight breaks out in the back corner of row five. Three white dudes and two Latinos are kicking the crap out of a couple of other white guys.
The two guards walk out the door, ignoring the brawling. Everyone around me looks away too, naked like a coward, so do I. Stepping away from the showerhead, we make our way into a saori hara blowjob line to get clean clothes and boxers.
How do you just walk away from that shit?