Our Weird Humor
One of the things
about corrections is the weird humor we take for granted. I believe that our
humor comes from our work environment, where we learn to hide our feelings.
Joking helps us cover up our deeper emotions, and so it becomes natural for us
to laugh about things other people may not consider to be funny. I will relate
here some of the prison incidents I have found to be funny over the years.
One night, while a good friend of mine started to lock up inmates at the max
unit (maximum security), one of them turned and hit him. My buddy was a
really big old boy. He had an oversized belly, but no hips. When the inmate
hit him, my buddy drew in his breath and drew back his fist. As he did this,
his pants fell down. My buddy never missed a beat. He grabbed his pants with
one hand, and knocked the inmate away from him with the other. Of course
everyone was laughing so hard that the inmate tried to get away and didn’t get
hit hard. It’s hard to hit a man hard while holding up your pants.
In the same max unit an inmate cussed me and told me that, if I would open up
the door, he would "kick my butt." The next day he was moved to another wing
and this wing had yard for one hour. That evening I was standing at the wing
door where the inmates came out for yard. You never heard so many "Good
evening, boss!" and other kind words this inmate said when he saw me. Only in
a lock up would this seem funny.
One time in another max facility, an Officer friend and I were standing
mainline in a chow hall that fed over 1,200 inmates at a time. We always stood
in the middle at the outside wall. Something started happening and the chow
hall got real quiet. A full chow hall is not a good place when it gets quiet.
All the other staff moved up beyond the bars at the front of the chow hall,
but my friend and I were told to stay where we were. We started joking about
who was going out the window behind us first if something happened. Of course,
neither one of us would have left. While we were joking and talking I was
watching the inmates and they were looking at us and then looking up front
where all the other staff was. Whatever was supposed to happen didn’t, and
there was no one any happier than my buddy and I.
At another time, while a CO friend was counting a farm dorm one night, I got a
call to go help him count the unit. When I arrived he appeared to be very
frustrated, but wouldn’t tell me why. We counted the unit with no problems. It
was not until a few nights later that I found out what happened. One of the
inmates sat on his bunk and, every time the Officer walked by, he would start
counting his toes. That made the Officer lose his count. It was many a day
before this Officer lived this one down.
Yet another time in this same max unit, two of the young inmates that were in
cells side by side were having water fights while I was making rounds. The
inmate porter (assistant to COs) told me that they wouldn’t stop. They
had gotten him and the tier wet. I went down the tier and told them to stop
throwing water. As I went back up the tier they again threw water and got some
on me. I did not say a word but I told the porter to come with me. I went into
the porter’s closet and picked up a five-gallon bucket. I put it in the sink
and turned the cold water on. When it was almost full, I told the porter, "I’m
going to finish my rounds on the other side." With a great big smile he
replied, "Yes Sir, Boss." I was about halfway thorough my rounds when I heard
this strange splash of water and much yelling. There were no more water
fights, the tier was cleaned up and there were no more complaints. However,
when I made my rounds again later, there were lots of smiles on that wing.
These things happened over 30 years ago, before many of you were even born.
When you work max facilities, certain things get to seem funny and you build
friendships like no other, except in combat. I have not used anyone’s name,
even though too many of them have made their final roll call. God, I miss
them.
Take care,
The Old Screw
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