I hate to keep harping on it, but one of the toughest adjustments is simply trying to fall asleep each night. Forty-nine other men (actually most are young kids, in their late teens, early twenties, gangster wannabes) living in this hell-hole they call a dorm, and you should hear the screaming, hollering and attempts at singing that take place every night. It's wearing me down, I'm exhausted. These are the dudes who sleep all day, the night is their time; probably similar to the way it was back when they were on the streets dealing. To make matters worse, those earplugs Eileen tried to give me, well the guards wouldn't let me have them, for what reason I can't even fathom. Probably because it would make too much sense.
I wake up at 2:00 a.m. or so, and observe over in the corner the usual poker game taking place. Yes, even at this hour. Instead of chips, tiny bars of soap are being used, kind of like the ones the hotels give out. As I rubbed my eyes to get a closer look, who do I see but the night guard, who's supposed to be in charge of watching the room, right in the thick of the game, playing along with the inmates! Oh great, I feel really safe now.
No fireworks for me this year, for the 1st time since I was a little boy I haven't heard the sound of crackers going off in the distance. I try not to think about it, all I can do is hope and pray I'm home to enjoy the 4th a year from now.
He wasn't.
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