Day 22 of 100

“If you tell them you want to kill yourself, they will put you in observation for 72 hours.”

I was in booking at the San Diego County Jail at 3:30 am. My arresting officer was whispering in my ear what I should and shouldn’t do.

“If you ask for a blood test we can keep you for a couple of days until we get the results.”

He clearly didn’t have my best interests in mind.

I elected for a breathalyzer and blew a 0.082, which was 0.002 over the legal limit in California. While a million stories went through my head, it was pretty clear that this was one situation that I wasn’t going to talk my way out of.

After booking, I was put in a holding cell with about 20 other men. There was a phone in the corner, but I had no one to call. What I remember most was the noise. Everyone was talking, yelling, walking around, standing then sitting, then standing again.

“Baldwin!” I was taken to take a mug shot and fingerprints, and then was walked to an elevator. At the top of the elevator I followed the guard to a cell and sat down on a bench.

Over the next six hours we were taken from cell to cell and were finally fed a brown bag filled with four slices of bread, a packet of peanut butter and a few slices of cheese. I used it as a pillow.

The final room we were led to passed by the holding cell for the men headed to real jail. “I can’t wait to fuck you! I’m going to beat you to the white meat!” I was so tired and embarrassed that I just didn’t care.

As I was handed my things and I was led to the door that opened to the street, I took a deep breath and walked out into the morning sun.

I grabbed a cab to my car. It was $9. I had $8. Driver was kind and let me be short. I got out of the cab in an AM-PM parking lot and got into my car.

I drove home scared to death I would get pulled over.