You keep the sunshine, save me the rain.

The night started right.

The Friday run in the forest was perfect. Unforgettable. The turn at the far end of the first lap, straight into driving rain and cold wind. Sisu is with us, as we enjoy these splendid conditions. I wear shorts and a t-shirt as others are dressed in the heighth of winter fashion. Inspiring conditions would lead to an inspired evening.

The night started completely, exactly right. Sushi, girls, maximin, conversation, and the night was almost over. Sitting in a downtown bar, the bartender suddenly tells me I'm no longer welcome, and not allowed to try to find my jacket, even though the cold rain continued. Resigned to the fact that the jacket was gone for now, I walked out of the bar as I was told to do, despite having no idea why I was being asked to leave.

Then a period of no memory and I awake in a hospital. Four limbs, good, but four limbs shackled to the metal hospital bed. An IV in my arm, pain all over, and a catheter inserted into the dick-hole. Fuck that, its coming out. It came out. A nurse explains that I was brought in overnight and accused of a pretty serious crime, one that I would never commit. One that has me laughing in disbelief. Though, one that should have me spending only a morning or so in detention before I could get a hold of someone to post bond.

Finally, a pair of Sheriffs arrive, and load me into a van. The ankle shackles dig into my Achilles tendon and I limp and hop. I jump into the back of the van. A less able body would need to be lifted. My t-shirt had been cut off with scissors the night before, so I wore a blue hospital smock. The drivers miss the entrance to the facility where we are headed. I laugh at some of the dumb shit they say. Sisu is with me.

I'm brought into a sparkling new facility. I would quickly gather that this is literally the first day this detention center is open. Procedures are vague, but the sliding doors are slow, heavy, and strong. There are about 15 people, including myself, waiting around in a large waiting room with comfortable metal benches with backs, and 4 flat screen TVs which are showing the NFL draft and soon, NBA playoffs. Guards circle the area and yell if you stand up for any period of time. Otherwise, they let you be. Most of the folks in the waiting area are Mexican and Spanish is flying. I am silent for a long period, but eventually make a few friends among the folks. My name is called. I am photographed and printed. I am looking pretty rough. The guy at the counter can't seem to get anything to work. A female assists him and I am through this process. More waiting area, more NFL draft picks happen, and I sleep and doze. Not the worst Saturday morning of my life so far. Comparable to an airport terminal when your flight is delayed. With a different crowd.

My name called again, this time to speak with a woman about my possessions. She has my belt, my wallet, my camera, and my phone. She has my $15 cash, which was to be used on a cab to get home, since my truck had been abandoned 12 hours earlier in another part of town. She has my keys. I am relieved that I am basically whole. My phone is missing the film over the front of the case and the leather that was poorly affixed to the outer case anyway. Weird. Oh well. This time, I am allowed to retrieve two numbers from my phone. I retrieve the number of maximin and the number of an editor who I would like to get a message to. I notice that I have text messages from some people I am very happy to have messages from, though I am not allowed to read them. I am frustrated because of my knowledge that reaching a cell phone would be impossible on the ridiculous phone system in the jail. The property women erroneously confirms my misinformation. I ask her to help me reach my friend. No way.

I sit on the circular stool at the phone, feeling helpless. Pick up the phone 10 times trying to dial maximin. Miraculously, he is able to set up a credit account and for $20 I get to speak with him. A long and frustrating message must be listened to by he and I before we get to talk. He can avoid charges by hanging up, or he can accept by pressing 0. He accepts. Our discussions will be monitored or recorded. But the connection is clear. I talk to him for four minutes or so before the guard is calling my name again. I hang up the phone, and see a deputy of some sort. Bautista. Tattoos cover his arms. He's younger than me. He advises me that bond has not been set and that I've missed court for the day. I'd be in here for at least another 24 hours. I'm frustrated and ask for information. Very little is given, and I'm back in the fishbowl waiting area.

NFL teams are selecting players. Offensive linemen and linebackers. I don't see many names I recognize, and don't watch football, so I'm indifferent. I would rather know who hit homeruns the previous night. I get back on the phone with maximin and tell him the information I've gathered. I tell him that I will likely have a bond amount set at 10:30 the following morning. We laugh about a few things. I'm called into the nurse's office a few times and am treated well. Carol, the sweetest nurse in the land, calls me back into her office every couple hours and gives me large doses of ibuprofen. She waves and smiles often. Spirits are good, Sisu is with me.

I'm yelled at a few times by the dickish guard. He tells me that I will be the last one processed from the waiting area, for being on the phone when he called my name. "You're on OUR time in here." No problem, because this seemed preferable to the conditions I was likely to see next. Soon my name and four others are called to intake. Things are happening very slowly. Spirits among these guys are pretty high. We're all laughing at the pace and the clumsiness of the process. One by one, we change from our incomplete street outfits (belts removed) into bright yellow, brand-new, canvas suits and bright orange "Bob Barker" model shoes. Velcro, cheap, converse-style kicks. Truly, I am dressed in the heighth of prison fashion. My size large shit fits right. One of the dudes is frustrated at the slightly tighter fit of his shit. Medina, who is the most authentic immigrant-style Mexican amongst us, couldn't care less about the tighter fit of his shit. We joke about looking like bananas or wooden pencils. The guards struggle with the vacuum bag machine. Our street shit is filed away in a filing system of racks. The same technology is used by the audit firm to store old workpapers. We compare wristbands. A few of us are headed to pod F and a few to pod C. We are escorted to an elevator. The dickish guard is not only dickish, he's also a fucking retard. This would be the last time I would deal with this dick, though.

We get off the elevator (shiny, new, but a light is flickering brightly and intensely, made more intense by the shininess of the new metal surfaces). Three of us are headed to C pod and two of us to F. I'm headed to F with a Mexican named Reyes. This guy is a nice guy.

F pod is at the far end of the C hall. I'd walk this hall many times, and fortunately, never shackled or handcuffed. Nor yelled at. In fact, from this point on, I will be treated quite humanely.

I arrive at the F pod and can't quite hide my grin. This place does not look bad at all. About 25 inmates are here, as there is housing for 32 in this pod. 8 tables provide seating and chess/checkers/dominoes/Uno games are provided. Six guys are playing a full-on basketball game. Two flatscreen TVs are mounted 8 feet over the center area and showing NBA playoffs on one and a movie on the other. One guy has ink on 90% or more of his body, including a giant swastika on his right arm. Some of his face is just colored in solid tattoo-ink blue. He turns out to be literally the nices guy in the place, though I don't see him talking to the minorities. Chris is my cell mate and is most of the way through an 8-year sentence for cooking meth. Also an extremely nice guy and a true ringer at chess. He checkmates me in about 5 moves in our first chess game. I play about 8 games in the course of the two days and am able to slightly frustrate him but never win.

I'd observe that in this detention center, we're in our cells from 9 pm until maybe 9 am. From 9 am to 9 pm, we are free to hang out, play hoops, watch TV, and socialize as much as we'd like. One guard watches over the group. Being as social as I am, I make a bunch of friends. I offer translation services to the Spanish speakers. I hoop it up with Wolf and a Mexican who may or may not have been in possession of treinta kilos de coca before arriving here. There is definitely one creep who is in 24 hour lockdown, who is staring from his room, and looks to be naked. I just avoid looking back at him. I sit and watch NBA playoffs and listen to the talk of the blacks who follow the sport.

I make friends with Ranzini, a mountain biking- river guide and good dude, who admits to getting too intense when he drinks. By day though, very likeable guy. He's in a frustrating situation, and will probably be in for another week or two. He writes out a message he'd like to have delivered to his girlfriend, which I am glad to do, but it turns out her phone number has been changed to an unlisted number. I have his number and he's offered to take me on a river trip for free in early June, when the river is at its best. I am very likely to take him up on this offer. We'll also attack the mountain bike trails this summer.

At 9 pm, during halftime of an entertaining NBA game between the Oklahoma City Thunder and the Lakers (with the Thunder dominating and the crowd pretty happy about it), we're told its lights out and we retire to our cells. My thoughts would focus on the good things in my life, and the weekend I am missing. When my thoughts would return the the crime I'm charged with, I'd get frustrated and quickly go to my happy place, which is a mountain bike trail through Aspen trees. This works every time, and I doze off in relative comfort and good spirits. Indeed, Sisu is with me still.

At 12:25 am my door pops open. This first time I don't wake up from the loud sharp noise but Chris my cellmate is. He pokes his head out and the guard calls for me. This would be my first of 3 overnight visits to the nurse's office down the hall. Each time my blood pressure is taken and recorded and I am checked for signs of concussion. I pass each test easily. I know the day of the week, where I am, and I check the time as is a rare chance to see what time it is. At 2:00 am I am again called down to give information to a man, presumably to help set my bail amount. At 4 am I am again awakened to visit the nurse. This trip has me feeling like I am in a movie. This one I look around my circumstances and I laugh. 7 of us are headed to see the nurse, so the trip takes a while. The guard, being old and not particularly quick with technology, we are forced to wait for 30 minutes or more just waiting for him to open the doors, which is done using a PDA.

Before we can go back to sleep, breakfast arrives, and it is barely edible. I give Wolf some of my biscuit and my grape Jelly. I enjoy the off-brand fruit loops and unfortunately, the coffee (I would later learn that this coffee has an additive that causes your dick to quit "working." I try to brush it off as jail-myth, but have since confirmed this). After breakfast, we sleep again. I'm awakened at 6:00 am since I have court this morning. There are maybe 15 of us going to court, and we just sit there and wait. Two inmates, St. James and Reyes, are advised that they will be "PR Bonded" meaning that no one will need to post bail for them. They are still on the hook for their crimes. We wait and the rest of the inmates are let out of their cells for the day. More hanging out, watching sportscenter, and I learn that the Avalanche are out due to a loss to San Jose the night before, and we learn that the Thunder did upset the Lakers the night before.

We're taken to court, and we are seated alphabetically. One by one, we are advised of our bond amount. Mine was set at basically the minimum, with the only guy getting a lower bond some older guy who let the air out of a neighbors tires. One kid's bond is set at 200k. Quickly, we're headed back to our F pod. I'm suddenly a little frustrated because while my bond is set, I have no way to communicate with maximin, since the phone system was not working. Our guard finally caves and allows us each a phone call from his desk. I leave a message for maximin. Hours pass. I continue to visit the nurse's office. Vital signs are good. Sisu is with me. Two lines of a song pass through my head as I walk with swagger down the hall: "I got ice in my veins, blood in my eyes..." then a set of guitar chords from another song on this album. This is enough to keep my spirits up.

The phones start working, and maximin still has 8 or so dollars of prepaid talk time. I call from a phone where I can hear him but he can not hear me. He tells me some great news: my bond is posted in full. I'll be free.... any.... minute. He's a good dude as well. I tell this news to the guys I've made friends with. They're happy for me. I tell the Spanish speakers the news, and tell them we just have to be patient. Reyes is wondering, if he's libre, why are we still here? At this point I'm not too worried. St. James, Ranzini, and I watch more hoops. The Cav's are blowing the Bulls apart. A former UNLV basketball player in this pod is practicing his ally-oop slam dunks in the basketball room. St. James and I talk about our families. His mother, a former meth addict, looks generally terrible. His grandfather took care of he and his sister growing up. His father has been in prison since he was born. But this kid is a good bright kid. He'll be fine. Ranzini and I talk about mountain bike trails we ride. He writes out a good bit of information he wants me to pass along to his girlfriend. Sorry Ranzini, she changed her number. Finally, at about 5:00, a guard comes and takes 4 of us to be released. We've been bonded out.

We four are pretty stoked, but of course, as it goes in this facility, it takes a long time to get anywhere. The guards downstairs are dicks. We wait for our clothes to be returned, and our things. The smokers are disappointed that their lighters will not be returned to them. Our cash is gone if under $30 (I had $15). My camera memory card is gone. I am told not to text but I do anyway. I tell maximin I am free. I ignore a phone call, and another. We look human again, and we walk out into freedom. Maximin is waiting in a room that is nearly identical to my initial waiting area, without the solitary cells along the wall. He gives me a high five, and we pick up my car where I left it Friday night, and we go get wings and a couple beers. I thank him many times and we talk about law and lawyers. I hit the liquor store for a couple bottles of wine since I have a dinner party to attend. I walk to this party, through the cold, driving rain, slowly and deliberately, and smile. Sisu has stayed with me, and this is a good life.