So we arrive to 100 Centre Street also known as the tombs. The officer unloads us and warns us, "It might smell like feces or ass in here, you better hope AC is working or the heat makes it worse."

YAY! What a way to start of the morning. BTW, it's about 8am-ish at this point. So I have already been detained for about 5 hours now. At this point I'm still positive I'll be out soon enough to make my spot @ The Comic Strip Live later on that night...

So they bring us downstairs to the processing station, where we get our pictures taken again. They review our file and then hand us over to Holding Cell Officers. I'm sure there's a fancier name for these cops but I refuse to google it and find it out.

These officers lead us further downstairs to the cells. There we get broken up into 6 different cells. None holding more than 30 prisoners (mind you not counting myself as a prisoner, still just an innocent person). It's awful. The floors look like any rest stop bathroom floor on the NJ Turnpike that has been cleaned with a dirty bar rag. Again they have provided us with the fashionable and uncomfy steel benches, the toilet/sink is in the middle of the room, and there is a free phone so that we can call out and see what's going on in the real world.

I called my folks. They were worried sick and wondered why I hadn't come home. Told them my story to which they freaked but then told me everything would be okay. I hate when people do that. At a time of need, people always feel they have to re-assure you and tell you things are going to be okay.

There's really nothing they can do until my paper work gets processed and they bring me up in front of a judge. So they go on with their daily lives.

Lucky for us, the new batch of prisoners, we had gotten processed in time for meal time. I hadn't eaten since dinner the night before. Mind you, I was hosting at The Comedy Cellar the night before and had thought to myself I should get the Buffalo Wings before heading home. Which btw, if you have never eaten there it is a must. Everything on the menu is delicious. I was cussing myself out for not listening to my stomach and eating those wings, because now I had to eat between a Peanut Butter Sandwich and Cheese Sandwich.

Before you go thinking, what's wrong with that, let me describe what they look like. The Peanut Butter looked like peanut butter that had been mixed with glue and then left out in the sun for days. I chose the Peanut Butter in case you were wondering. While holding the bread, my fingers got greasy... what in a Peanut Butter Sandwich produces grease? I have made countless Peanut Butter and Jelly Sandwiches... I have eaten Peanut Butter and Apples and never have I had greasy hands after either.

The Cheese looked like stale government cheese. The slices weren't even and from what I saw it was tough to chew. (for the white people and my friends in the subrubs - government cheese is a tough brick of cheese given to lower income homes. My family and I never received it, but I was introduced to it while dating a girl from Brooklyn. To give you an idea on how tough it is, she made me a grilled cheese sandwich, to which the cheese took 20 minutes to finally melt... it was like boiling down into glue)

So I ate, which was a good and bad idea. I had to put something in my system but this dropped like a weight to the pit of my stomach and stayed there. Still there to this day, feel it on rainy days. And then I sat there... and waited. Of course along my wait I did see live entertainment.

We'll get into that a little later on... in my next blog BIBLE, FIGHTS, POT, FIGHTS and MISC DRUGS!