Welcome To The Jungle

[wel-kuh m too th uh juhng-guh l]: This song is about Los Angeles. It exposes the dark side of the city many people encounter when they go there to pursue fame. Guns N’ Roses knew this side of the city well: in 1985, they lived in a place on Sunset Boulevard in Los Angeles that they called “Hell House.” The house was often filled with drugs, alcohol and groupies.

The House That God Had Forgotten Part 9: Where the rubber hits the road

Welcome to the Corridor That God Has Forgotten. Or shall I say The Floor That God Has Forgotten.

Jail is not like it is on the television. Here at The House That God Has Forgotten you are welcomed in the doors by a man who has worked over 30 years in the game. 30 years of living the life as a corrections officer. A hardcore. A viking.

He stands at the double doors in his pressed shirt and welcomes you. Put your stuff in this little plastic box. Go through the medical detector, collect the papers and off into a room nearby with the glass windows to fill in the paperwork.

He can get you through intake faster than asking for a milkshake at McDonalds.

It is where the rubber meets the road. It is intake.

So you see, it is not like on the television. Some overweight woman making you stand there next to a camera… “Turn right, Turn Forward” it is instead the manager of McDonalds getting things done faster than you can blink an eye at.

Everyone goes in and out of those doors. If you are going into The House Of God Has Forgotten odds are that he knows your name (if he is working that day). He has an odd memory about names. He remembers them, the problems they have had and how to talk to them.

He is legendary in The House That God Has Forgotten. Everyone knows who he is.

He walks up and down from the break room with a paper cup filled with black coffee and when he has a free minute he is working on his computer.

He eats breathes and sleeps the entrance and exit to The House That God Has Forgotten.

You see him everywhere. If there is someone in crisis, he is the first person to talk them down.

Are you a inmate no one can handle? They usually ask for him. He knows all the legends. They know him.

“Him and I go way back.” an inmate told me once “I have known him since I was 15 years old”

And where guys like that sit are in The Corridor That God Has Forgotten. It is kind of like if you think of someone that gets fired. You get a first class ticket to the corridor.

It is the end of the line. When you get pushed over the line.

And to be honest it is not so strange. Spend 23 hours a day alone in a cell by yourself and try not to go over the edge.

Some want to hurt themselves, some want to hurt the guards. And these are the people that stay for a little while on The Corridor That God Has Forgotten.

People looking at you once an hour to see if you are getting off those drugs you have been taking when you were pulled off the street.

People looking at you of you want to hurt yourself.

People looking at you if you want to hurt others.

You work in The Corridor That God Has Forgotten like a ghost. Being caretaker with one, comforting person with another and disciplinarian with the other.

They are a rough and tumble bunch that work there, but in order to be there you have to be a little rough and flexible like spandex. You have to care. You have no choice but not to have prestige.

These same people rotate over in a split of a day to welcoming children into the jail to see their fathers. To meeting lawyers, to making small talk with a man that just saw his kids and had to watch them leave while standing at an elevator.

It’s personal for them.

And they are good at it.

They are the faces that everyone inmate knows in their best and worst times. Watching them with the excitement in their eyes as they get to see their parents, the sadness of feeling like it is hopeless, the regret that feels the walls of the guy that mumbles to himself all night;

“I really should not have thrown my TV to the floor in a fit of rage”

The watching of the confused children when they are told it is time to go, or the mother that on this visit is not allowed to hug her son while two guards sit there and listen to their private conversations.

This my friends is The Corridor That God Has Forgotten.

And when you see the man by the double doors, you know that it always is going to be something interesting to watch.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s