We heard all about security measures, suicide watches, TV dinner style meals, extraditions, bail/bonds, transports and the likes. We also learned why their underwear is dyed brown.
Don't ask.
Needless to say, it's not a happy place.
I aptly re-named it 'Corinner-Elly's Private Hell'.
How people live there baffles me. It appears sterile while feeling completely grimy at the same time. I would do anything and everything in my power to never go back.
Then again, I would do anything and everything not to go in the first place, but you catch my drift.
Regardless, I learned two things for certain:
1) I never want to go to jail. (Breathe a sigh of relief, Mom.)
-AND-
2) Crocs are meant for inmates.
I've always been confused/repulsed by the unexplainable popularity of the rubbery gardening shoes known as 'Crocs'. Why people insist on wearing them in public baffles me.
Actually, why people insist on wearing them at all baffles me.
But after watching several inmates shuffle past in neon orange Crocs, I knew it was a match made in Heaven. I mean, it's almost like a punishment on top of a punishment.
Not only are they locked away for a pre-determined period of time, they're forced to wear one of the most ridiculous clothing items ever made.
Just the humiliation itself would reform me.
So there you have it.
I've solved one of the world's greatest mysteries.
Feel free to thank me in person.
Unless, of course, you happen to be incarcerated at the moment.
You and your Crocs scare me.
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