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...