Working Colfax

I had jokingly threatened to work my corner of Colfax if a nursing job didn't materialize 'soon enough' (whatever that means). Well, I've managed to fulfill both goals (or at least the verbal harassment portion of the latter).

For those not in the know, I am working as a registered nurse in a medium sized correctional facility in a town south of Denver. Thus far I have trained in the infirmary, where prisoners stay if they're detoxing from a substance or just can't live in general population, i.e. the person in a wheelchair, the man who is so sick he's turned a shade of gray, etc. And I have been trained to work in the pods.

A 'pod' is a living quarter of this facility's inmates. There are 6 pods each with 5-6 day rooms with 20-ish sleeping quarters off the day rooms. There is one day room for women, the remainder are for men. Most of the cells don't have doors, but the day rooms are kept closed and locked most of the time with a person in 'the tower' overseeing all of the inmate's activities within the pod.

Each pod has an exam room in which I check blood pressure, give insulin, check wounds and change dressings and give medications. Indeed, many of these skills I learned in nursing school; what requires instructing is the policies and procedures of the jail and what just takes time is getting familiar with the personalities of the inmates. Such as those of the men in 6A.

Six-A is 'the hole' of Pod 6. It consists of a day room off of which there are 7'x7' cells housing one man each that are kept locked 23 hours a day. The men on this unit are half a step away from the bottom of their housing options (the bottom being the behavioral control unit in the infirmary) so they have little to lose, which makes them, uh, perhaps more vocal than their counterparts in other day rooms.

Which translates into my getting catcalled, just like I might working Colfax. For several days running, this little ol' black guy would wait until after I medicated him to make his appreciation of my ass known to every man on the unit, "Look at her. She has a nice ass. And she KNOWS she has a nice ass. Yes, she certainly does know she has a nice ass. So-and-so said she has a nice ass and she knows it and I know it."

So, while being a nurse may be a better regarded and less illegal profession than walking the streets and working the corners, sometimes the atmosphere of the two jobs is the same.

Nearly Virgin Hare

Despite some controversy as to whether I was a 'virgin' (=new) hare or not, I laid a Hash trail today. The weather did not cooperate; it was overcast with variable amounts of rain. Because I laid trail with flour, I ended up sticky, pasty mess, of which I did not get a photo. Believe you me, it was messy! As with most experiences, I learned from this one.

A) 25lbs of flour is plenty to lay a ~5mi trail.
B) If the trail is well-marked, folks won't balk at its ~5mi length.
C) Try to avoid laying trail so as the hounds stay within site of the start of the Hash.
D) 11 cases of beer is plenty for seven Hashers with some leftover.
E) The public seems less antsy about powdery white substances randomly strewn about, but I think I'll color my flour next time just to be safe (but, no, I didn't see the haz-mat crew. Anyone else? Bueller?)
F) I didn't get snared because the fastest FRB (=front running bastard) wasn't present. In the future, I will prelay the end of my trail, as well as the beginning, as insurance for avoidance of pantsing.
G) I like haring; I'd do it again.