Friday, 9 March 2012

...and freedom

After that first smoke (I felt like a kid again taking that first drag, I wasn't expecting the head rush) and hastily chugged beer in broad day light as school children and and stressed-out office workers rushed to nowhere around me, I found a phone booth. My cellphone was in minimal power, and I hadn't paid my bill this month, so I had limited calls. I could receive, but not send-- another detrimental notch on my bid to freedom. It's really hard to call for help when your phone doesn't work in any way. I called Kay, my almost new roommate, who had moved in by this time, and a couple other friends, one of which was the girl who was with me when I went to jail in the first place.

"Hey, it's me."

"Oh my God! where have you been?"

"Jail and Immigration. I just got out. They want to deport me."

"That sucks, we just met and now you have to leave?"

"Not yet. They let me go, I have to go to court. We can meet today. I'm free. I'm not leaving anytime soon"

"Okay, I'll have to bring you some white tofu..."

?

As it turns out, tofu is supposed to symbolize purity. So, when you get out of jail, you're given tofu to cleanse your soul. I never got the tofu. She cancelled with a cold, but she called me up at about 2 am, a week later, drunk and demanding we meet right away. I obliged.

I finished the phone calls and caught a cab. 20 minutes later, I was peeling off my dirt-encrusted clothes stuck to my smelly body and basking under the soothing cascades of hot water. After a shave that took longer than the shower, and some fresh clothes, I looked pretty much the same, but smelled much better. After a hamburger and a pizza, I was ready to go, right back to what got me here in the first place...