From time to time I have guests blog whatever it is they feel like blogging. I will not tell them what to blog; I won’t edit it; I won’t influence the Guest Blogger in any way.

Nothing as interesting as Fucktard, who writes:

I came to your blog expecting a post regarding your account of 9/11. You know everybody has one, I was here and doing this or that. From reading your blog so far, I dont think you were whore mongering yet but would like to read your account just the same. It would also be really interesting to see a prono princess account of the day. My twisted mind has the opening sentence going something like this, ”So I was being double penetrated by two large black men when someone announced on the set and that plane had flown into the World Trade Center.”

Well not to give to much about myself away, I will share this: In my younger days I sold pot. Lots of pot. Hundreds of pounds at a time. Like with anything good there is a bad side. The bad side of this was federal prison. So I was in federal prison 9/11/01, and this is my account.

I was having a cig outside the kitchen at the USP Atlanta with my good friend Billy when the cheering started. At first it was just a few cheers from D Unit, then it spread across the whole prison — a very loud boisterous celebration. You see in prison there is a huge racial divide; Atlanta was 87% African American at that time, and of those, 60% were proud members of NOI (Nation Of Islam). The only thing a NOI follower hates more than other races would be the United States government. To them, it was a great moment; they were in a frenzy of celebration as if they themselves were carrying out the attack on the USA. Most of the non-Muslim inmates had made there way to the TV Room in A Unit and were watching the horror unfold on the 19″ television, while waves of cheers “down with America” reverberated through the large airy cell blocks.

I was standing next to a older man in his late 40′s (a cocaine trafficker from the 80′s who had been incarcerated over 20 years). He was a large man who took very good care of himself and was considered by many a role model for how one should behave in order to survive. He looked around the room at the 100 or so of us standing there and said in a matter-of-fact tone, “Are we going to sit back and let these animals cheer while our country is under attack?” The call went through the ranks: “arm yourselves!” There was a sense of great pride as we assembled in mass to battle with those who would celebrate the attack on our country.

In prison (at least the one I was in) they have few rules. For the most part the animals run free. As long as the CO’s (correction officers) are left alone, they let pretty much anything go. But they make it clear if for any reason the lockdown is sounded — and you do not go to your cell and lay face down in your rack with your arms across your back — they will most decidedly beat you to death. That is when lockdown is sounded the SORT (Special operation reaction team) assembles in a matter of minuets and storm the cell blocks restoring order and dealing deadly blows to anyone who dare not comply. It was the only time I had ever heard the call for lock down; it’s not something that happens often. The last time it had happened in Atlanta was 1987; to my knowledge, it has not sounded since 9/11/01.

The group I was with stood motionless as the prison went completely silent. It was the strangest thing I had ever heard. The one thing about prison is the noise. It is always loud. You never get a moment of silence in prison, never. But for the first time while I was there you could hear a pin drop — other than the call of LOCKDOWN LOCKDOWN over the public address. We waited to see what would transpire. Would people go to their cells, or would it be a full scale prison riot? What took only minuets seemed to be hours, as first a trickle of people — then large groups — started back to their respective cell blocks. I among them.

As I lay on my rack face down hands across the small of my back, I remember the quiet…then the sound of the SORT team entering my cell block. I can remember thinking how precise they sounded, how professional, as they went about their task. They removed the leaders of the NOI, and those who were most violent, as well as anyone of middle eastern decent. We remained on lockdown for the rest of the day and through the evening.

They confined us to our cells but let groups go to eat. For the next several days we were not allowed out of the cell block to the yard and ate in small groups that could be contained easily. I think it was two days before we were allowed back in the prison yard. The thing I most remember was that there were no airplanes flying. The prison is near Atlanta International airport and jets passed over countless times a day. I haven’t thought of my experience in years, but for some reason it was fresh in my mind this morning.

I am not proud of my days in prison and would rather people not know that I was once incarcerated. I don’t mind owning my past, but I would rather not advertise it…unless it’s on a porn blog. Then it should be totally acceptable.