UFOs in Prison Part I

     My addiction recovery isn't complete without a sense of humor. I was reading through my prison journal the other night and came across this story I wrote about the chow hall (or cafeteria). Don't get the wrong impression as you read it because I was grateful to have something to eat, and I really didn't complain a lot about the food. Some of the details in this story are factual, especially the looks of horror on other inmate's faces as we entered the cafeteria. I was really grateful to come across part one of this story. It made me laugh and appreciate the fact that I can eat tasty food! I hope you enjoy it. 😊

Written on 01/19/2013

UFOs (Unidentified Food Objects) in Prison

Part I

              The smell was the first thing I noticed when I walked into the chow hall, and my nose instinctively crinkled as I tried to remember what was on the dinner menu. I fell into line and tried to imagine the source of the mysterious odor that was attacking my sense of smell, but my mind kept drawing a blank.

              The line moved slowly as men shuffled forward, none too excited to reach whatever it was the dinner staff were serving tonight. I looked around and noticed faces with worry and wonder etched upon them. Mr. Handal raised his brow in concern as my gaze settled on him. I knew he was wondering the same thing as I, and I could only give a small shrug and try to assure him with a slight smile that everything would be okay. There was no talking in the chow line so that was the best I could do. It must not have had the intended effect because his expression of doom deepened as he faced forward once again to continue his march towards the serving line. I stood on my tiptoes and tried to catch a glimpse of the food ahead, but I was too far away to make out anything. Time seemed to slow down, and my nose grew more and more offended as the seconds ticked by.

              Shuffle, shuffle, shuffle went the feet of the inmates as they made their way forward. Beep…beep….beep went the scanner as the kitchen officer scanned the offender’s IDs as they were handed their food trays. I tried to keep the panic down as I moved slowly ahead. I quickly sorted through my mental olfactory inventory of all the smells I had encountered in kitchens, restaurants, and delis but still nothing came to mind that indicated what I was about to eat.

              ‘Oh well,’ I thought as I gave a mental shrug. ‘It can’t be that bad, can it?’ As if rejecting my attempt to put my mind at east, my nose twitched, and a slight sense of nausea arose in my stomach. Just a few more minutes, and the great mystery food would be revealed……

To be continued…