Yanno... I Could Always Be (Working) in Prison

Over the course of this last year, I've often wondered if I've actually been afflicted with not knowing what the hell I want to be when I grow up. I don't think that's the case, actually, even though my job carousel of the last 18 months would certainly make it seem like it.

I think, in a way, it's been a matter of embracing that kind of profession that gives me the flexibility I want and lets me be expressive and true to my personality. Largely, many of the professions I've tried over the course of my lifetime have required me to alter my behavior to a certain degree. Funny as it seems, I haven't had to change that much being in the cab. Within the limits of the law, I can pretty much dress the way I want to (Houston has an ordinance barring t-shirts and shorts as an encouragement to the tourism and convention industries that take advantage of the warmer weather in the winter and spring). And during those times when a customer chooses to engage me in conversation, I really don't have to hold back a whole lot except those obvious TMI situations (religion, politics, ethnic groups and medical issues...).

However, I can remember times when my personality just forces it's way to the surface.

Last year at this time I was getting ready to "start my career" as a state corrections officer. Me and my classmates were touring one of the tougher units and a line of cells that were a step above administrative segregation reserved for those gents considered a little more incorrigable than the average bear. In other words, this was the repository for assholes of the highest order who didn't think they had anything else to lose. My classmates went in 15 at a time, and we had a group of 33. I deliberately hung back to go last as I saw one guy in the center of the line having his 15 minutes of fame. He's probably done it every time a group of "new boots" walks through every three weeks or so as the Academy gets ready to graduate a new group of officers.

Self-bragging, talks of who he's going to rape or beat up, and how fucking tough he is... blah dee freakin dah...

Me, and the two guys that are left are former corrections officers... we've already seen it, and we know the worst thing you can do to a "mister showbiz" type is break him up when he's on a roll. So, the second group comes back, and it's just the three of us... and they don't feel like going in. Again, they've been there, done that. However, I get the look from them that says they want to see if I know what's up with the loudest kid on the cell block. So, before stepping in with my class proctor and the field training officer who are leading the little tour... I say.

"So, this is E-line, huh?"

You goddamn right it is! He yells back.

"I suppose I should walk in with more than just these two ladies, huh?"

Fuckin-A right you should! He retorts.

"Come on!" I yell, looking back at my classmates. "Anyone else want to join me looking in on the KIDS?!?"

WHAT THE FUCK!!! WHO THE FUCK?? WE'RE A BUNCH OF GROWN-ASS MEN IN HERE YOU DOWN'S SYNDROME LOOKIN MOTHERFUCKER!

And that's when I stepped onto the E-line, leaving my escorts behind.

YOU'RE LUCKY THESE BARS ARE LOCKED YOU... YOU...

"Yeah, what, exactly?" I said.

He started pacing from side to side in his cell... without a word

"10 straight minutes of bullshit crunk followed by this. Is that what you've been trying to tell us, that you're a MAN?"

He sits on his bunk and looks away from me. A voice from another cell chimes in.

"You got him, boss-man."

"We all have something to lose in a place like this," I thought out loud. "You don't have to lose your cool if you don't want to."

And that, among other things, is why I hung up my career in corrections a couple of weeks later. There is a possibility, however slight, that the phone will ring again and I will need to drop what I'm doing to go audition, do a gig, or go write something. In the cab, I can push two buttons and be invisible to the rest of the cab-driving world. In the joint, it would have taken an act of GOD to get me to an audition.

Here's to finally having a place to let me be me... and that little bit of freedom.

G