May 12, 2010 – Up in Smoke

Yesterday after aerobics class I was in a shower happily lathering the sweat off when I heard the horribly shrill fire alarm that goes off in the rotunda. Dag-nab-it! That sound means that we must all hurry outside and lien up by wing on the basketball court—the court where no basketball can be played. Although each housing unit has a big basketball court with two opposing hoops at regulation height, these courts are only used for smoke breaks and fire drills. The only passing will be the passing of contraband and the only dribbling will be from someone's lazy lips. There will be no ball game on the asphalt court. (Don't waste brain cells pondering the insanity of that one. It's merely a prison thing.)

I yelped a warning in case the girls in the other three showers didn't hear the alarm, "Fire alarm, girls!" Watered down groans and expletives ensued. I dried quickly and rushed to wrestle on undies, tee-shirt and shorts. No article of clothing was cooperating either! Thank heaven for warm weather. I've gone out many a time with wet hair and shivered in the snow wearing only thin shower flip flops and cotton pajamas.

As I exited the shower area, I noticed that my cellmate had been cooking spaghetti noodles. She wore that Charlie Brown look of exasperation as she set her half-cooked noodles out of the microwave and abandoned them. The dripping girl behind me still had shampoo in her hair and was slip-sliding on her wet shower shoes. These come-as-you-are parties are a royal pain.

We never have a real fire. We have smoking in the bathrooms that alarms the smoke detectors. This time the upper tier of c-wing was the culprit. After we assembled in our four lines on the basketball court, a sauntering sergeant scolded us all for having the audacity to talk during this code 70. It kinda cracks me up that anyone can expect a few hundred women to travel anywhere absolutely silently. It's my opinion that expectations should be realistic, but the sergeant evidently is a dreamer. (Every time I'm in the middle of a chew-out, I flash to the scene where the wormy warden drawls to Paul Newman, "What we have here is a failure to communicate.")

Since it was time for chow to be called, we weren't in line for long before they ordered us to single-file back inside—except for the sinners, who were culled from the herd and left standing with heads bowed and tails between their legs. This morning at breakfast one of the c-wing upper gals told me that the officers gave them the blues all evening, wouldn't let them go to recreation or church, and made them all GI (scrub and scour). We are not supposed to be "mass disciplined", but regardless, it's a very common prison practice. Guards are not supposed to curse at us, but that's also a common occurrence. This is offensive to some, but I figure these people talk like that all the time, so how can they edit themselves when they are upset at us. I'm not saying I like it. I guess I've grown immune to colorful abusive language, although I can recall a time when I was horrified, too.

It's a state law that no one can smoke in a state building, but the smoke is so thick in our housing units that during peak hours clouds hang, resembling a smoky bar—a gal could choke. I've been exposed to second-hand smoke for nearly a quarter of a century and can't help but worry about the effects. We have inmates with COPD who suffer greatly from the pollution. Indoor smokers set off fire alarms at all times day and night which disrupts the prison routine and creates security risks for both inmates and staff. And even with all this, Missouri will not make their prisons smoke-free. We're one of the few remaining states who hang on to the notion that it's every smokers' right to indulge their addiction any-damn-where they please.

There are punishments for smoking inside. Stupid smokers get caught. Smart ones always have someone to stand bust for them. Many officers turn a blind eye to the smoke. They are smokers themselves and don't want to statistically prove that there is too much indoor smoking by giving tickets to indoor smokers. I've heard guards swear that if the prison becomes smoke-free that they will quit. Smoking is more important to them than their economic livelihood.

Also state law prohibits smoking within so many feet of a state building, but our staff smokes while leaning on the exterior walls and as they stroll on the sidewalks around buildings. We have picnic tables for staff right up against the housing units for staff smokers who don't have the strength to stand. Why? For the same reason inmates smoke indoors. Because they can. There is little enforcement of the state's smoking rules. And in Missouri prisons, there are absolutely no rights for those who wish to breathe clean air. Unfortunately we all have our daily intake of nicotine and poisonous gases.

Every year the rumor washes over camp that as of July 1^st, our prisons will be mandated as smoke-free. I have no idea why the date is always July 1^st, but I do know that this rumor has yet to come to fruition. Until that fateful day of decision, I will continue to shower with an ear perked to alarms and I will keep clothes handy for the middle-of-the-night drills. What's the boy scouts' motto? Ah, yes, "Be prepared."