So before I tell you about the crazy act of teleporting for the first time and what it felt like for me, I’m going to take you back to when I went to jail for owing $1100 in child support. Remember that a few chapters ago? Well I hope so because I will never forget.
I remember them slapping the handcuffs on me. It was a harsh symbol of the situation’s reality. Then the court officer led me out of the courtroom and through a door that exposed a dark room of hopeless negativity. I remember thinking: Is this really happening? Do I really have handcuffs on me? Am I really going to jail? I have to call Angela! Will I get the proverbial one phone call? How do I get out? How long will I be there? Will I be in there with criminals? Will I get shanked? So many questions.
The officer makes me unload all my pockets. He put my cell phone, my wallet, the change I had in my pocket- everything into a plastic bag. He had to do all that for me because I was obviously handcuffed. They the officer took me to an elevator that brought us to the ground floor. I’m walked down a long hallway that leads to a garage where I’m put into the back of a police car.
I’m still in shock. I have to imagine when actual criminals are placed into a cop car, they think “Damn. I got caught. This sucks.” But when you are in court over child support and hauled off to jail, it’s really the worst surprise ever. I just can’t believe I’m in this vehicle heading to the “big house”. It was just the last place I was thinking I was going to today. As I look out the window at people who aren’t going to jail, there are so many emotions going through my head. Anger at my ex for a) not stopping this from happening and b) her hoping this would happen. Embarrassment to myself, my children, and my family. Frustration to myself that I let it get to this point. Fear of where I’m heading and how I will get out. Depression of all of it. All negative. All of it sucks.
We get to the huge county jail. I look up at all the small windows and the many floors of the building. I’m thinking about the hundreds (maybe thousands?) of incarcerated men and women I am about to join. We pull into one of the automatic garage door entrances. It’s a huge indoor garage with a few police cars and jail vans parked inside. The officer opens the car door and helps me out of the back. He and I shared no words during the ride nor as we walked into the jail. I had no desire to have any conversation. And I respect him for not striking one up.
We enter a sliding door and there’s a clerk behind a bullet proof glass window. She asks me my name, address, and date of birth. I go through a metal detector, obviously checking if I had any hidden weapons or items. I am then fingerprinted and take a mug shot. As all these actions happen, the more I feel like a criminal and a loser. That feeling gets even worse as I’m told to take off all my clothes. I’m throughly strip searched, and I have to put on the bright orange shirt and pants, accessorized with the extremely unfashionable green flip flops.
I am then told I have to sit and wait for which room in the jail I will be held. I am also told there’s a pay phone where I could make collect calls to someone who could help me pay the back child support and court costs. Who do I call? What do I say?
I just can’t believe this is happening to me. The shock and awe is just not going away. But I have to get over it because I do not want to be here any longer than I have to. Will it be days? Weeks? I just don’t think I could last that long.
I go over to the pay phone and read the directions of how to make a collect call. My mind is reeling at this point, but I know who I need to call first.