What can I say? It was a complicated weekend. I’m just pleased I could get myself to write words today.
I gotta say it for Red Beach’s finest: they’ve got nice, clean cells. Didn’t smell, either. Or at least, not enough to complain about. When you’re in a drunk tank, it’s pretty damn impressive when there isn’t a smell older than a day. That’s devotion to civic hygiene, that is.
Then again, that might have been because of the clientele. My three temporary colleagues all had the indefinable air of people with lots of money, and who would still be in the morning, when they sobered up. They’d forgive having to need their clothes laundered, but not burned. That probably justified scrubbing down the cells every day.
Me? I was far too sober, dammit. I hate getting stashed in drunk tanks without even getting to do any drinking first. I always feel like I’m stealing somebody else’s seat.