Angel with a crooked halo: June 2008

Please indulge a little set up for my story:

My first job in New Orleans six years ago was as a bartender at Good Friends. I figured that jumping feet first into the Quarter would be a great way to initiate a Yankee in the ways of The Big Easy. Being the new guy, I was given the shit shift- 5 am to 1 pm. Since all bars in Maine closed at 2 am, I was curious as to what kind of people would be out and hitting the clubs at such an early hour. I soon found out that my clientele was a broad spectrum of hookers, crackheads, homeless people, career drinkers, and the occasional party animal not ready to end the night. Two favorites still stand out six years later.

One morning, a little after my shift began, 2 large, black trannies entered the otherwise empty bar. While one went to the "ladies room", the other came up to chat (and to my naiive mind, keep me busy while her gal pal cased the joint.

"Excuuuuuse me SIR, but do y'all have any Grey Goose up in here?" She asked while scanning the bar.

"Well of course we do honey- it is a bar after all."

"Mmmhmmm- well you know, I ain't never tried any of that. Do you suppose I could get a little sample?"

"A sample?! Does this look like Baskin & Robbins to you? What would you say if I told you that I had never had a blowjob from a tranny? Would you let me have a "sample?"

"Um, no baby- you'd have to pay."

"Bad for business, right? So- would you like to BUY a Grey Goose?"

"No baby, I'm cool. Would you like to buy a blowjob?"

"No baby, I'm cool too, but thanks and have a fun day at work!"

My next favorite leads into the reason for this post. Another very early morning, this time- a few more stragglers at various stages of incoherence. One young guy shuffled into the bar, pulled up a seat away from the others- and promptly laid his head upon rested arms across the bartop. Thinking I was going to have to boost him to the nearest hotel, shelter, or a more appropriate spot to nap. As I walked up to him, he lifted his head so that I could get a better look at him. While not totally unattractive, the boy was still looking a bit rough. His eyes were bloodshot, hair mussed up, three days since a decent shave, and cloths that really needed to meet the Maytag Man. At this point I was trying to remember if I had brewed enough coffee.

"Rough night my friend? Need some coffee?"

"Yes to the rough night, but definitely no to the coffee. You got anything stronger for under three dollars?"

"Three dollars will get you a draft beer- that's as strong as I can do for that- can you handle it?"

"I guess it will- but can I ask you a question first?"

Having been on this morning shift for about a month at this point- I had heard my far share of crazy ass questions, so I was ready for a doozy from this dude.

"How do I look?"

Mind you- when I first envisioned working in a gay bar- I did indulge in a few fantasies about cute guys hitting on me. And although I did get a lot of slurred offers for sex, I really hadn't been approached by anyone my folks would really approve of yet! So I was ready for a firm "not a chance dude" wrapped in a bit of a lie about a boyfriend or something. After all, I didn't want to hurt his feelings or my tip hehe!

"Well, to be honest, I can't really tell- I would suggest you calling it a night though. Maybe getting on home, showering, shaving, and sleeping for a bit. Do that, and then come ask me that same question and you'll probably get a better answer!"

"Well, I guess that answers my next question. Does it look like I just got out of OPP?"

I scratched my head a this point. Why the hell is this drunk kid asking me about hip hop? Does he think that I would be impressed with his early 90's rap reference that I would see beyond his appearance and give him a go?

"OPP? Like 'You down with OPP? Yeah you know me?"

"Huh? You been down with OPP too?!"

Ok- now I am confused, and bored with the conversation.

"Alright- what the hell are you talking about dude? Naughty By Nature- "OPP"? You asking if I know that song or something?"

"Song? What are you talking about? I asked about OPP- Orleans Parish Prison."

Mind you- that although I had lived in New Orleans a month, and thought I was getting the lingo down- there was still a ton I didn't know. Hell- it was only the week before that I figured out about the Westbank. For the first three weeks I lived in New Orleans, I heard the Westbank mentioned constantly. By customers, the news- you name it. For the life of me I couldn't figure out why any drunks in New Orleans would give a shit what was happening on the Gaza strip. But I digress hehe...

"Oh shit- OPP is the prison?"

"Yeah- that's what I was asking- I was stuck in there for three days."

"Ahhhhh- now I get it! I'm sorry dude- still kinda new here! But, yeah - you do."

Ok- back to the present. The real reason for my post.

This past Thursday night, I got out of work at the restaurant fairly early- well, early for the night shift- at 10:30. Knowing I had a full weekend, I decided to go out while I could and visit my friend during one of his first shifts at Laffites. I knew that my Friday morning at work was going to be an easy one, so I could handle a bit of a late night.

I got to his bar around midnight and had a few drinks while catching up with him. They didn't have much of a crowd at that point, so we were able to hang for about an hour. He started to get a little busy, so I told him that I was going to wander to the Pub and grab a drink or two there before returning back to him. Two Pub strength drinks later, I was starting to feel more than a bit buzzed, so I decided to load up on food and had a big breakfast at Clover Grill. When I left there, I crossed the street to Lafittes to tell Elijah that I was going to stop in a Good Friends before returning to him.

As I was walking down Dauphine, in the block before Good Friends, a police car stopped next to me. The office put on the lights, and told me to come over to them. Thinking they might be asking me if I had seen someone they were looking for or something like that- I went over. Then started the 5th degree- who are you? what are you doing? do you have any drugs? have you been drinking? etc.

"My name is Andrew, I had a few drinks down the street. I am walking to another bar right now. No, I don't have any drugs. What's the problem?"

"I am asking the question boy, not you. Give me your ID."

Rolling my eyes (which I guess they don't like), I handed it to him while I struggled to keep my smart ass mouth shut.

After running my name through their supercomputer, they came across an open warrant for a traffic citation in Jefferson Parish. Turns out that when I paid my fine and court cost to JP last year, they never bothered to register my payment. Therefore it was still open, and the NOPD officers couldn't be happier. Now they had a reason to cuff me for a ride.

I get to the lovely Orleans Parish central lock up and then the fun really began. For those of you not fortunate enough to spend any time there- please let me describe it for you:

A large warehouse of a building- easily the size of a football field. Grey cement floor, white cinderblock walls, and green cages all over the place. Along the front, a line of counters labeled "Fast Track", "Booking", "Property", "B of I" (not sure what the hell that was), and "Medical". In front of the counters, in two sections, are 5 rows of 10 chairs. Behind these is the Watch Commander's area- a few computers and desk chairs. To the right of the Commander's area- there is a large room with a green gate and door. This is the Men's Holding Tank. There is a similar one to the left of his area for women. There is one long wooden bench around two sides of the tank. The left wall has four toilets- all in plain view of the room. When I was put in, there were at least 60 men already camping out. Since there is not enough room for so many to sit on a bench, there were people sprawled all over the floor as well.

Now that I have set the scene- let me add some time reference. It was about 2:30 am when the cops put me in the cruiser. So I figure I got to Central In-take around 3:00 am. I sat in a chair by the door for a while- during this time they took all of my stuff and put it in an envelope. After about 45 minutes, they brought me over to the tank. Maybe it was the booze, but up until this point- I was doing alright. Not too stoked about my situation, but more of a shrug my shoulders "what can ya do" type feeling. Having to enter the lock tank, with the 75 other dudes- that made me a bit nervous. HEHEHE. Like how I put that? "A bit nervous"? I pretty much scanned the room as quickly as possible, found a spot that was mostly empty and plopped down on my ass with my head tucked to my lap.

That was my pose for the next 4 hours. At one point I might have fallen asleep for a bit- but in no way was it restful. Aside from keeping my eye on everyone else there, the floor was extremely hard, and the a/c was cranked so high that it was 50 degrees at the most. I guess they keep it like that to deal with the smell- but let me tell you- I would have preferred a bit of stench over shivering my face off.

Not sure how long I had been in there before I was called out as a fag. I do know that I was completely sober at the time. Which in hindsight is probably for the best. Had I been drunk, I wouldn't have been able to resist the urge to mouth off. I just did my best to nod off and hope that they'd get bored. Which they did- until the same dude saw someone else he thought was gay and started in on him. Maybe this dude was trying to work up a more "Oz" like atmosphere- get the gay sex started. I don't know- but he eventually shut up.

At 7am the new shift came on. I only noticed a change because everyone in the tank started griping about it. Apparently- to those in the know- nothing gets done for at least 2 hours around shift change. Not that you would really notice the difference. From what I had seen, not a damn thing ever gets done at all. Not that it is knowledge I am proud of having- but I do understand the whole booking process. They take your picture, your prints, give you your rights, and have you verify everything on your ID. Even with the most antiquated system and crankiest perp (like how I use the lingo?!) it should take no longer than 15 minutes to do everything. In Orleans, they have it even sweeter- there are different people to each part of the booking. You meet first with a nurse to go over any wounds, meds you might be on, etc. While you are doing that- someone is running your social through the national database to see how bad you have been in your life. Then you should proceed to the person taking your picture and information and end with your picture.

When they finally got around to doing any bookings at 8:30, I noticed two phones in the tank. Turns out you can use them at any time- but here's the catch: they only allow collect calls, and you have to call a land line. All calls to cell phones are blocked. Now, I don't know about you- but ever since I switched to a cell phone, I have no idea what anyone's phone number is at all. To make it worse- it's safe to say that 95% of the people that I know only use cell phones as well. The only person with a land line number that I remembered was my boss. Thankfully, he's gotten into enough trouble since I have known him that this was just a bump in the road hehe. Luckily I got him on the phone and after we both laughed a bit, he said he was going to call his lawyer friend to get me out. He was also going to call the friend of mine who helped with the JP ticket. So after hearing all of this, I felt a bit better. I just assumed it would be a matter of time before my release came through and I could get the fuck out of there.

Well, by the time it was noon, I was still waiting for something to happen. I had not been booked, and no official had said a word to me. I called my boss again and he said that the lawyer had gotten the judge to okay my release at 9:30, but until I was processed, there wasn't much else they could do. So back to pretending I am patient. Pretty much the same story for everyone else in there. From what I could tell by the bands on their hands- there were at least 50 other guys in the tank who were waiting to be booked as well.

I made my way to the front of the gate so that I could see what was going on in the booking area. From what I could tell (and I have done enough installs to know the signs) Orleans Parish was implementing an entirely new booking system. Digital cameras mounted in rows next to computers. A thumbprint scanner to verify prints, etc. The way it was set up- there were four booking stations, so they should have been able to crank through all of the inmates. However, that was soooooo not the case. Their was one woman sitting at her computer, talking with another woman sitting next to her. Not once in the 30 minutes I watched them did either look at their screens. Hovering above them were two people that I assume worked for the computer company. They were scurrying around checking and rechecking cameras and computers.

The bookings slowly started around 12:30, and they would bring dudes out a dozen at a time. Apparently you are numbered when you are brought in, and they "go in order" of your arrival. That was a load of shit, as I watched guys who came in after me get booked. So I wasn't really trusting any of the "way things are done" with the deputies. Finally, at around 2:30, one of the deputies asked all of the men with grey armbands to get in line. Still having your grey armband meant that you had not started the booking process and needed to see the nurse.

When it was my turn to get started, the nurse asked me if I had any wounds, whether I was on any medications, had I been drinking at all in the past 48 hours (um, that's why I am here I think was my response hehe), and then asked if I had done any drugs. She clipped off my grey band, had me sign the health form, and asked me to head to the seating area and wait for them to call my name.

While I was waiting, a couple of ornery ladies were brought to processing. Two of them started a huge fist fight and one was dragged to isolation. When this happened, everyone else in the place bust out laughing. Had I not been there for the reason I was- I would have not been able to stop laughing and probably would have egged them on more! After they hauled her off, the Watch Commander (who I had already pegged as the leading hard ass of the shift), made everyone in the seating area go back to the tank. Telling him that I was told to sit there was met with a "GET THE FUCK IN THE TANK". The fact that I was stopped in the middle of booking will come into play later...

After things had calmed down, they resumed booking by calling some of the people who were waiting up front with me. My name however, was not on that list. After two more rounds of groups getting booked and me still on my ass- I started to get worried. I had heard horror stories of people getting lost in the OPP system- sometimes accidentally, and other times on purpose. I was beginning to wonder who I had pissed off. I was purposely polite, subservient, obedient, you name it- anything that I normally am not! It's very hard to get any questions answered by anyone working for the Sheriff's Dept. Not only do most of them not give a shit, but when you do find one who will listen- there are 50 other dudes trying to get their attention as well. So the only one's to ask about what was happening were my tank mates. They all told me the same thing- get used to where you are dude, cause you ain't leaving for a while.

A little after 3:00 pm, a woman came up with a file and asked for me to come out. She brought me up to the front and had me sit in front of a camera at the booking section. I could see the cover of my folder and in huge, black marker- RELEASE was written down the side. I was beginning to think I could see the light at the end of the tunnel. I was pretty ticked that I was made to sit there for 12 hours, but the prospect of freedom overrode that. A deputy came up and took my picture. Then he had me stand at his computer and began to scan my prints for the database. Unlike most of his co-workers, he was pretty nice and we joked around a bit. He told me that my release was all set, and once I was finished getting printed, I was "free to go". I was so happy to hear that. He gave me a little grief for not paying my ticket, and was sympathetic when I told him that I had paid it but it wasn't logged. He said that he could tell I didn't belong there, because most of the people in here have major problems. He sent me back to the seating area and told me to wait for them to bring me to the releasing area.8

As I am sitting up front, another newbie is making a stink by the door. Literally. He was obviously drunk as a skunk and needed to take a leak- so he whipped out his dick and started pissing on the wall. As expected, the humorless Watch Commander didn't share in the laughter and sent everyone back to the tank again. By my estimation, it was about 4:30 pm at this point. I told some of the dudes around me that I had my release, so they assured me that once they started rollouts again, I would be sprung. My name wasn't included in the next two groups to be released. So I started to wonder whether there had been a mistake, and that I wasn't really released. I tried asking any deputy that came to the gate, but not one of them responded.

Once it turned 6:00, I knew that I was screwed. I'd been around for the first shift change, so I knew that all work was on hold for the next two hours. Watching the night crew shuffle in- I got worried. I guess I didn't notice when I was brought in- but the sheer tonnage of the night crew is massive. I could tell that these were the real loafers of the department. That light at the end of the tunnel was gone. I was beginning to wonder if I was ever going to be outside again. To my surprise, the deputies on the night shift- although all bitter as hell- actually worked at a pretty good clip. Once they started taking people to booking around 8:00- they did their best to do several at a time.

Many groups of releases and bookings, but still no news for me. I was going stir crazy at this point. My ass was killing me from the hard floor. I was totally freezing my ass of- having been picked up in a short sleeved shirt, jeans, and sandals. Other than the bit of nodding off I had done around 5 am- I had not been to sleep since Wednesday night. I was able to joke a bit with the less scary of my tankmates, but I was getting very demoralized and doubted I'd ever leave. So at around 11:00, I called my boss again to let him know I was still locked up. He was floored- the last he'd heard was that I had been released hours ago- my lawyer was told the same thing. They all just assumed that I was so bushed, I went home to sleep and would call them in the morning. He immediately called a cop that we both know and told him what was going on with me. Earlier the cop had said that he couldn't do anything until they processed me, but this was ridiculous.

About a half an hour later, he walked into lock up. He knew most of the people working- and though he didn't think too highly of them- buddied up and chatted for a bit. Then he started asking what was going on with me. Why was I still in there? Was there anything he could do to speed things up? Thank god for his presence- because that is when they finally noticed the mistake that had been made. By processing my release before booking me, I was left in limbo in the system. He got them to agree to step it up, and before leaving, shouted that it wouldn't be long now.

But- knowing they had made an error did very little to add any urgency to their job. It took another hour and a half to get booked, and then another 45 minutes to get to the release area. Meaning that by the time I was given my things back- it was a full 24 hours since my arrival. To make things even worse- they make you sign for your property before they give it to you. And as I was walking out, I noticed that both bracelets I had been wearing were gone. So was my pack of smokes! I was ticked about the bracelets- but whatever- I know they are gone forever. Along with the 24 hours of my life.

So thats the tale- sorry it's so long, but it felt even longer! I wish it was all over too- but I get to go to court for the whole thing in the morning! I am going with my big grin, my arrest papers, and my copy of the cancelled check from JP. Wish me luck that this has a happy ending?!!!