PRISONER EXPRESS

But I think there's one group of people who are usually all too aware of the air they breathe, prisoners who live in an enclosed environment. I live in such an environment, Texas Death Row.

On death row we don't have windows in our cells that we can open to get a whiff of that fresh air. We have what they call an "air-cooling" system. Is it an air-conditioner? Whatever it is, it sure works good at cooling the air in here during the winter months! It's not so efficient during the summer though. When it is working, the air in the cell sometimes has a metallic or burned wire smell. That's preferable to what's outside the cell door though!

I keep my fan pointed towards the door of my cell, so that usually keeps the more obnoxious smells out. But once I step outside my cell, whether going to rec, shower or visit, the various odors assault the senses like a stampede of cattle. The main smell to assault your nostrils is the musty, sweaty smell of too many unwashed bodies enclosed in too small of a space without proper air circulation. Then you have the rusty mildew smell from the showers, the rotten sour smell from spilled food on the runs. Sometimes you'll catch a strong smell of feces or urine. On the disciplinary pods you have all of that and pepper spray thrown in for good measure. These smells are a constant and your senses soon acclimate themselves so that soon, you don't even notice it, until you leave to go to a visit.

Visitation is in another building and to get there you have to go outside. The first thing you notice when you step out the door is the air. It smells clean. Fresh! You smell the grass, the flowers, the very air itself! You take a deep breath and hold it in. Then you breathe in some more as you slowly make your way to the visiting room, trying to prolong your exposure to something most people take for granted and never think about. But you know that this is something special and precious.

Two hours later (four, if it's a special visit), your visit is over and you make that return trip back to the building housing death row. Again you take your time, enjoying the pleasure of breathing clean, fresh air. Then you step into the building and the smells hit you like a West Texas thunderstorm, violently assaulting your senses. It is the smell of human misery and despair. You crinkle your nose and grit your teeth and shuffle your way back to the pit you call home.

A sweet, rotten, sour smell is emanating from the small kitchen off the main hallway. Gee, I hope that isn't our dinner!