"So when I first got in we had a manditory “Wood” meeting. Or White meeting. I tried to hide my face in a book but they saw me and told me I needed to come. So I said, “I’m not white, I’m Irish”! That excuse did not fly so I went. The “Head Wood” went over the basic rules.
1) Piss in the pisser and shit in the shitter!
The “Head Wood’ went on to explain that he didn’t want to sit in our piss on the toilets!
2) If you have a problem with person of another race, DO NOT, DO NOT, fight with them. You are to take the dispute to the head of your race and they will take it up with the head of that persons race and the situation will be handled.
3) Do not purchase cigarettes or other contraband such as pills from any other race but yours.
4) If you get called a Bitch or a Punk, You are to pop them in the mouth immediately or else you are most likely a Punk or Bitch if you don’t.
5) If you don’t know ask before you do something stupid!
The meeting was adjourned!
So we get into our tent and this group kept playing poker until 12 o’clock at night. Three of them were respectful and quiet, but one of them was loud, obnoxious, and the most unfunny human ever. He didn’t stop talking for three nights. Now I’m the most passive person ever, but I was utterly exhausted from this guy keeping me up. He talked more than my girlfriend on 8-ball of speed and five expresso shots.
Finally, I couldn’t take it. In my nicest tone I pleaded with him to take it from a 7 to a 4 on the volume level. In my best Dave Chapelle white man voice I was like “This is ridiculous. People are trying to sleep and your being disrespectful”!
He replied that “I was the only person that had a problem with it”. He then started banging on metal getting louder. I thought of rule #2 but didn’t want to start this race crap. It was midnight and I figured I would go out for a walk until he fell asleep.
As I was walking, some dude asked why I was out so late and I told him what was going on. I was just venting. The guy asked me what race he was. Then I realized this was the “Wood” who had given the speech. I told him Chicano but that I didn’t want any trouble. He asked me how long I was in for, I replied four months. He asked how long the loud guy was in and I said I thought fifteen days.
He told me to go back to my tent and read my book. He told me the situation would be handled. Once again I told him I didn’t want any trouble. He said there would be none.
Ten minutes later, Three of the baddest Mexican’s I had ever seen walked in. All of them had the tear tattoos on their face. The guy had his back turned. They walked up behind him picked him up in a head lock, covered his mouth, and drug him out of the tent kicking and trying to scream. They disappeared for five minutes.
The dude came back in five minutes later unharmed. I do not know what was said or done but I have not heard him say one single word in thirteen days! It’s like they ripped his voice box out. He won’t even look in my direction. He lays in his bunk and stares at the ceiling. It was hands down the most dominating flex of power I have ever seen. I bought everybody involved honeybuns and thanked them. I showed them all my stupid tattoos and they told me I could be an honorary Irish Chicano. They told me if he did anything else to promptly notify them and they wouldn’t be so nice next time.
I now sleep like 210 lb fat angel every night! "
Koozman
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