Instructed to take a seat in the processed prisoner waiting area, I watched as several men and women were being ordered to change from their street clothes to the jail's orange jump suits.
Not wearing undies for over 30 years, I cringed at the thought of having to wearing one of these scratchy looking garments.
Given a code # that would identify me to the bail bondsmen in the Sarasota Metro area, I was told to call 1 of the 5 phone numbers listed on the wall.
Unable to see clearly because of the massage oil that blurred my contact lenses, I asked a rotund prototypically donut-eating lady officer if she could please read off the numbers to me.
Responding curtly that that was not her job, she reluctantly wrote 2 numbers down for me on a little piece of paper.
Asking The Holy Spirit for guidance, I only called the 2nd number and spoke with Wanda B. Free ~ from Dewey, Cheatham and Howe Bail Bondsman.
Saying that she would do her best to reach her boss ~ Willie Cheatham, who was out dancing on a Friday night date, she asked if I could call her back in 10 minutes.
Calling back & forth unsuccessfully 3 more times and because it was already 12:30 a.m., Wanda suggested that I should really contact another agency.
Again guided by The Holy Spirit, I confirmed that I would risk the late hour, possibly spending the night in jail and trust on her finding Willie Cheatham.
Instructing me to call her in 45 minutes, I was delighted to learn that Willie was on his way to the jail and would post my bail.
At 1:45 a.m. I was finally released and had to figure out how to get home.
Because the $275.00 in cash that I had was converted into a cashier's check, I ambled very weak-kneed a few blocks to an ATM machine.
Walking further down to Mattison’s Bar & Grill on Main Street ~ an outdoor “meat market” night club that I knew would have taxis available, I flagged one down that took me home.