by Travis Casey

Created on: May 19, 2010   Last Updated: May 24, 2010

As we entered cell block 'A' in London, security was very tight. Clothes had to be removed, stopping just short of nakedness. We were x-rayed to ensure there was nothing untoward lurking under our remaining apparel. But having seen us naked through the eyes of the x-ray machine still wasn't enough and we were subjected to further invasive body searches. We weren't quite cavity searched but the dignity was certainly bruised nonetheless.

We boarded the transport vehicle under close scrutiny of the guards. Once we all found seats, we were shackled in place and given the instruction not to remove our shackles unless we needed to use the lavatory. If it wasn't for the fact that it was a 10 hour journey we would not have been allowed to leave our designated seat at all.

In days gone by, the guards were all of a certain gender, age, height and weight. Unfortunately, as times changed, so have the requirements. Nowadays, housewives, grandmothers and aging people of all sexes and orientation act as our security escorts on the way to our next high security terminal.

We were allowed few pleasures while enclosed and chained in the bus. There was very limited room which I am sure the tight confines violate the human rights act on the basis of inhumane treatment. Entertainment could be bought if one was willing to bribe one of the guards for a set of earphones. Although difficult because of the close proximity to other inmates, sleep was one facet of mental escape to help pass time of the long and enduring journey. But even sleep was at the guards' discretion. Sometimes we were awoken by the driver shouting over the loudspeaker to sit down and shackle up because of upcoming potholes which may jar the vehicle. Or he would shout out some trivia about our trip such as where we currently were. Or the guards would come by and wake us up to dish out chow. There was a certain amount of sleep deprivation tactics employed to ensure that we didn't get too comfortable.

As time has gone on, we convicts have become more aggressive and unpredictable. In return, so have the guards. My elbow managed to protrude into the aisle by an inch or two. One of the guards came whizzing up the aisle with the chow wagon. The wagon smashed my elbow which caused me to emit whimpers of pain. "You need to keep the passageway clear, convict," she barked.

The guards used to try to make our journey somewhat comfortable. But as we were told at departure, their primary functions theses days is to ensure safety and security. Comfort of the convicts is now a very low priority and courtesy is no longer required as we are all viewed as potential troublemakers.

Our journey ends with an upbeat announcement from the driver. "Welcome to Chicago International airport. We hope you enjoyed your flight and we thank you for choosing Name Any Airline. We realize you have a choice when flying and your business is important to us."

Really? They could have fooled me!

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