Pet Peeves

Living in a space the size of a basketball court with 95 other guys takes some getting used to.  The sheer number of bodies compressed into that small a space is bound to generate tension (and odors!).  Troubles – whether in the form of arguments or the occasional throw down – are a natural result of putting men in cramped space with limited mobility and virtually no regular contact with members of the opposite sex.  Privacy is created in one’s own mind (you would be amazed what guys will do in their “private bunks”) and an uneasy “live and let live” attitude develops.  Still, it is a daily battle not to go bonkers over some of the foolish and ignorant behaviors guys in here exhibit.  Here’s my current list of pet peeves.

There are guys who insist on slamming lids:  washing machines, ice maker, commodes.  If it has a lid…bam, just let it drop.  We live in a solid block building with metal everywhere.  It’s not what you would call acoustically well designed.  Any sound reverberates off the walls.  There is a constant hum in the building from the washers and driers with the occasional “beep” of microwave timers and watches.  But the lid guys, they are oblivious to the decibels expended when they just let the washer lid slam.  Almost every day one of those losers will be recipient of “heh a-hole.  Quit droppin’ the lid!”  They can be counted on to retort “What?  I was just checking the wash.”

Noise.  I love days when I head out back to the ball court at noon and there’s no one anywhere.  I hear the birds and the silence, the sweet sound of silence.  The building is always loud.  Foam earplugs, are a regular purchase on commissary day.  But it’s the out of the way noises, the lids that drive guys crazy.

Closely following “lid slamming guy” is “vegetable bag guy”.  Every day is like a farmers market in here.  Whatever fresh fruit or vegetables are served end up back in the building.  Add to that hard boiled eggs, bread, butter, sausages.  If it can be smuggled out of the chow halls it will find its way to the building.  The more the COs pat down and search guys coming out of chow, the more creative guys get with sewing pockets in pants legs and coat backs.  The market for fresh foods is a big dollar business (one of my students “Stoney” is so adept at taking apples that he brought 27 back in his coat at one time and was patted down.  At 2 apples for 1 ramen noodle - 30¢, he makes decent money).

I don’t begrudge the black market.  Fact is, DOC feeds the inmate population nutritionally suspect meals.  Only guys on religious diets are provided fresh produce.  Illness and disease contributed to by poor food are major problems inside prison.  No, I understand why guys steal the veggies.  What drives me nuts is the storage.

Guys use large chip bags to chill their veggies overnight. Every try and pack a crinkled plastic chip bag (think mid-sized “Lays” bag) with ice?  And the bags are notoriously unstable so they fall over and ice and water (because a good number of the men in here still don’t comprehend the science behind melting) go everywhere.  Twice, I’ve found Katrina-like flooding under my locker due to the infamous chip bag collapse.  And, melting ice has to be replaced.  It never fails.  2:00 am some chucklehead decides to repack his ice.  Crinkle, Crinkle, splat (from the water and ice hitting the floor), then slam – ice maker lid.  From around the building then comes the melodic chorus “shut the f--- up!”

How about the guy in the bunk next to me who insists on shaking his package of oatmeal vigorously five times before opening it.  Not six, not three, but five every pack.  And, he’s an angry shaker.  Four times a day (again, not two, not three, everyday four) he huffs and puffs and grunts his way through five oatmeal shakes.

Pet peeves.  We have six guys who don’t wash their hands after using the bathroom.  Six guys who don’t have the sense to use soap and water after defecating.  Imagine seeing one of those six health nuts using the microwave when you’re getting a meal ready.

Then there’s singing guy.  He’s the guy who likes to sing at the top of his lungs.  He knows every rap lyric known (“yo, yo mama, bring me sum sug…”), yet 1) he sings everything off key; 2)  he sings loud;  3)  he lacks basic knowledge on things like balancing a checkbook, reading a lease, you know – silly things that don’t mean anything.   If there was only one singing guy it’d be tolerable; but, Friday evening, 6:00 pm, BET does “freestyle” Friday, a show about ordinary Joes rapping off against each other.  All the singing guys unplug their headphones and crank up the volume and let everyone know what ordinary Joe just spun.  My response?  I’ve been known to breakout a John Denver tune or throw down my own rap.  Last week, I even got two guys (surprisingly, both young rapper wanna be’s) to let loose with “Bohemian Rhapsody” and “Don’t Stop Thinkin’ bout Tomorrow”.  The reaction was initial dead silence followed by laughter and applause and a half-dozen “you’re crazy Larry’s”.

Pet peeves.  We all do things that annoy others.  We all have our own idiosyncrasies that we do in the privacy of our homes.  Here, everything is seen, every quirk, bad habit and annoyance on full display.  And you see the same things, the same behaviors, the same stupid quirks, day in and day out and they begin to gnaw at you.   Eventually some guys snap.  Me?  I get outside, clear my head, meditate, pray and write.

Ironically, little things used to bug the hell out of me.  I’d blow up at petty annoyances on a regular basis.  Perhaps, just perhaps, that’s one of the good things coming out of my stay here.  You have to learn not to sweat the little stuff.

Still, if the grungy six don’t start washing their hands, I may blow a fuse!