I complain but am told to deal with it.
After I am fingerprinted for what seems like the hundredth time it is time to see the shrink. "Where are you from? Are you gang related? Are you gay?" After all the poking, prodding, and questioning we are issued our essentials: bedroll, toothbrush, tooth powder (whatever that is) and one roll of toilet paper which we are told is to last us one week. Yeah right! We are escorted to West Block which I was told will be my home until they find a place to keep me. You see, San Quentin is not only home of California's only still operational gas chamber, it is also mainly used for receiving inmates and housing them until they get classified as to what type of prison they belong in. First you have your level 4's. They are pretty much the worst of the worst murderers and rapists. Then you have level 3's and they are almost as bad as level 4's except they did not intentionally kill anyone. This is what I fall under. Then there are your level 2's which are drug dealers, drunk drivers, and repeat offenders. Then there are your level 1's, first time offenders. The only reason I don't qualify as a level 1 is because I used a gun so I get to play with the really bad guys. Great! .
So here I am being escorted to West Block. We walk up through what I am now being told is Blood Alley, which is an extremely narrow outdoor corridor with very high walls. I get a chill up my spine. I ask the informant of this information why this is called blood alley, but as I look around I can see why. There are guards high up on the walls, but if I were to be stabbed right now there is no way they could tell who did it, and we are just a group of sixty. Imagine a group of one or two hundred walking through here. Man, I want to go home. As we exit blood alley we make a right and there it is, five stories of corroded and cracking cinder block called West Block. As we enter, the first thing I notice is all the garbage.
