FROOT-LOOPS AND CHEESE in Adventures From Prison

FROOT-LOOPS AND CHEESE Last night it was freak’ in cold out, my friends all laugh at me and say I’m a horrible Chicagoan. They don’t get that what makes Chicagoans seemingly untouched by the cold is our clothing. Years of living in the Windy City teach you what to wear so you don’t feel the cold and wind: Sweaters, corduroy pants, leather gloves and layers of t-shirts all help, but none of those things are available here. Instead I have thin khaki pants, cheap long underwear, a jacket slightly thicker than a windbreaker but made of canvas, and gardening gloves. So yeah, I’m not a fan of going outside in the 2 degree air. Instead of trekking out for a scoop of mushy enchilada casserole, my best friend, my cellmate and I decided to make a “brick.” Basically this is made of crushed ramen noodles, crushed BBQ corn chips, crushed Ritz crackers, diced salami, jalapeno wheels, and a pickle mixed together with cheese and hot water in a Doritos bag until it forms a loaf. (And yes, this IS a better alternative to the food at the Chow Hall in both taste and texture). So we get it all mixed up and into the Doritos bag and my friend Jay, is kneading it through the bag while my cellie gets the hot water. “Uh-oh,” I hear. “Uh-oh? What did you do, Jay?” I ask. “Um, bag’s busted.” “No it’s not,” I tell him. “I checked it before you came over.” “Yeah, well I hadn’t put my thumb through the side of the bag before I came over. Even I’m not that talented.” “Jay!” “It was an accident. So, you got another bag?” “No. I had to borrow that one from a guy.” “Well this one won’t work anymore. What do you have?” I dig through my locker and emerge with a mostly empty Froot-Loops bag. “This work?” “Probably, go rinse it out. Froot-Loops and cheese don’t mix too well.” I look at him, “Why do you know that?” “You spend time in County jail, you learn things.” “Eww.” Thanking God I missed that experience, I go rinse it out. When I get back we transfer everything over and add the water. Seconds later, Jay yelps. “Son-of-a-bitch.” “What’s wrong?” I ask, then see a large puddle of Cheesy BBQ water under the bag and running onto Jay’s lap. “What do you think?” Jay says deadpan. “Oh” “Yeah. Oh.” Jay said. “Didn’t you check it for leaks when you rinsed it?” “Yes,” I lie. Actually I’d still been thinking about Froot-Loops and cheese. My Bad. “Glue must have given out because of the hot water.” “Hmm,” Jay growls. “Now what?” My cellie digs through my locker while I help Jay get a bowl under our now nearly liquid-free bag. “Nothing here,” he reports. Which is how I ended up walking up and down the hall asking for some sort of discarded bag to cook my dinner in? That’s just one of those events in life that makes you stop and wonder how you ended up there. You just have to laugh at the sheer lunacy of it – or you’ll end up sobbing. Then again it could be worse. We could be eating Froot-Loops and cheese.