The sound of revelry rings in my ears to this day; loudspeakers make me cringe; and the sight of gold teeth always brings back mental images of some of my closest platoon members. Memories from this experience will always be with me. The one that stands out most from the others involves an event which happened outside the barbed-wire fences of my summer home. It would turn out to be a huge turning point in my life while also attributing to my only serious screw-up in boot camp. A month into the program, when the blisters from my feet had just began to heal ...
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"Off the bus! On the bus! Off the bus On the bus!" Such was the theme upon arriving at boot camp. I had stayed up the entire night before, anticipating this very moment but never expecting the chaos I was now a part of. Picture 70 people on a school bus, rushing as quickly from and back into its cramped confines in unison as possible. Anyone clumsy enough to get trampled or delay the effort in anyway was immediately rewarded with an eyeful of spittle and an aggravating thump to the forehead from the stiff brim of one of the drill instructors' campaign hats ...
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When a Baltimore hustler clothing line manufacturer and barber named Rodney Bethea released a straight-to-DVD documentary about life on the mean streets of West Baltimore back in 2004 in a bid to further the hip-hop careers of some of his street-savvy friends, he had no idea "Stop Fucking Snitching, Vol. I" (better known simply as "Stop Snitching") would soon become a touchstone in a festering conflict over drugs and crime on the streets of America and what to do about it. In a steadily rising crescendo of concern that reached a peak earlier this year when CBS' 60 Minutes ran a segment on the ...
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One of my last memories leading up to incarceration, about a year and some change prior, was a little get together we had at my mother's house in 1997. It was the night of the Mike Tyson / Evander Holyfield rematch and some of my friends that I had grown up with would be attending. There were approximately eight of us and one keg. Mario, my closest friend, though we were all connected through years of pick-up basketball, had a bet going with Felipe. I'm not sure now what the exact amount was, but it was more than I would have bet given I ...
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Anyone who has spent ANY time behind bars can attest to at least one odd story or another pertaining to their stay. There is a "What the fuck?" factor to every jail. Just keep your eyes open and you will find some detail that has you either scratching your head or laughing emphatically. One of these "What the fuck?" moments came while spending a month in segregation for a "tobacco-related incident". The cells were bright red and had open barred faces which provided the occupant with a wonderfully pock-marked view of concrete nothingness. The slitted windows toward the ceiling of the three-story human warehouse ...
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