As we were going outside, I said to the police woman, "Could you take these (cuffs) off they're really embarrassing"

She replied, "No. All criminals have to wear handcuffs."

'Criminals!' was the next thought in my mind. I didn't know what to say. There was nothing to say. But, I thought, all I did was skip the train. I hadn't robbed anyone, I hadn't beaten up anyone, and I certainly hadn't murdered anyone.

But in my mind, I knew that what I had done was wrong. I knew that going to jail wasn't suppose to be dandy and happy, but for what I had done it didn't deserve jailing. I was only a teenager, still in High School.

So they put us on a bus with other people that had been arrested. They cuffed me and my friend to the bus as we waited, watching the buses and cars pass by on 42nd Street. Time just passed by slowly.

Both arresting officers, began asking us questions from a sheet. They searched us and took out things from our pockets. It was at some point that I thought that they were thinking they would probably find a blade or something. I was so mortified at what my mother's reaction to this would be. I wasn't worried about her screaming at me, that part didn't faze me. What I was worried about was the way my mother might think of me. Never the same again. Then I began to sob.

It wasn't until about ten minutes later that I had stopped crying, and began to laugh. My friend was cracking jokes in an attempt to cheer me up. I had to laugh.

About ten minutes later, after a small scuffle with a man unwilling to give his name, the officers put us on a police van headed to the precinct. The ride lasted around ten minutes. There in our cells, we were called on one by one to be finger printed. It took them about ten minutes to get me printed, my hands were sweating so much! Then it was my friend's turn to go. I sat there and waited in the cell, for her to come back. It seemed like she had been gone for a while.

All of a sudden by the end of the day, my friend and I were put on another van with several other men and women. The police were taking us on a trip to another precinct.

We had no idea where we were. We didn't know where we were going, what street we were on. We weren't even sure if we were still in Manhattan. I was nervous. One of the arrested men told us that we were going to the precinct where the women were psycho. I remember looking out the window and seeing the time on a gas station clock. It was exactly 7:01. I looked down at my shoes that were falling off my feet, because they had asked us to take off our shoe laces and belts, to keep anyone from attempting suicide. This was done to all of the inmates.

When we got out of the van, the officers had us walk in a straight chained line in cuffs. Everyone had to be careful not to walk too fast, in case the other inmates couldn't keep up. All the women were in a line of four, including my friend and myself. The men were on another line. We were taken into the precinct where the officers looked and treated us as if we were scum.

Then I saw my arresting officer. She acted as if she was sorry for what she had done, when in fact, I thought that if she did care, she probably could have just fined us. She shrugged her shoulders and moved her lips as if to say sorry.

It was different here. My friend and I could not share a cell. The bars were painted yellow, the floor was stained and it reeked of urine. I thought about what a nightmare it would be to wake up in this Hell hole.

On the bench I could remember the officer asking me for my home phone number. She said that she would call my mother. But I knew that she wasn't home. I was somewhat relieved, when I was told that my brother answered the phone and that my mother was not home. Relieved but, not yet recovered. The guard woke us up, chained us then took us to a room where we had our mug shots taken. We came back. Wanting to rest, I began to fall asleep, only to wake up every ten minutes to the sounds of people talking, and the glare of the fluorescent lights. I could hear the guard, walking with someone, closer and closer to my cell. I sat up. The officer asked me if I wanted to share a cell with my friend. I couldn't say no. A woman took my place in the cell. I was then put into the cell where my friend was.

We began to talk about our lives at home, and people at school. At around 1:00 in the morning, the guard woke us up and gave us food to eat. It was coffee and two pieces of stale rolls with bologna in the middle. My friend didn't drink milk, so she gave me her coffee. We ended up talking until around 3:00 in the morning, and slept until around 6:00.

When we woke up, we heard a prisoner ask the guard, "When we gonna see the judge." "9:30," was the guard's response. My hand was quivering, and in pain. At 6:30 the guard woke us up once more to give us breakfast - scrambled eggs on a hamburger bun, and tea with milk. My friend at that point did not eat because she refused to eat eggs that were not cooked by her mother and couldn't drink tea with milk. So I was happy and she was starving.

Time flew by pretty quickly. At 9:30 the guards rounded everyone up and put us against the walls outside the cells. Then I started having that hurt feeling in my hand again, every time I heard the word judge. They cuffed us up in chains together, and walked us up to another section of the precinct. There we stayed in a room, locked up. My friend and I sat there in that room with three prostitutes, two shoplifters, and two women who were charged with stolen property. One woman was there for assaulting her girlfriend. She had told us of a time she had beat a man with a crowbar, for salaciously grabbing her, while the police watched from a nearby shop, eating doughnuts and drinking coffee. The woman said, that somehow she knew she wasn't going home. At first she just seemed to joke about it. Later after seeing the judge, she came back running into the room. "I told you I wasn't going nowhere!," she said. She was going to Rykers Island. She then became quiet and sat in a corner by herself.

The court officer, called my friend to see her attorney before seeing the judge. I was left there alone with ten women who seemed to be friendly with me. My friend returned. She had told me that her attorney was a nice man. About ten minutes later, my name was called, and I saw my attorney. He was trying to make me feel as comfortable as possible, but, no matter how much he tried I knew I was in that room for a reason. I didn't have any reason to be happy. I had committed a crime. He had told me that the judge might sentence me to community service. He told me that this misdemeanor made me eligible to serve time in prison for up to a year. He also told me that in six months my record would be cleared from the state, but not in federal records. There my record would remain permanent. Then I was sent back to the room.

Two minutes later my friend was called out to see the judge. She never came back. Then ten minutes later I could remember a police man called me. When were you born, he asked. When I told him the date, the sadness of the women going to Rykers seemed to be somewhat wiped away. "When is your birthday?" she asked? I repeated myself. "That's my birthday," she said with a smile. "Aiight," we both said, and gave each other pounds. I smiled. But, when I had stepped into that busy crowded court room, I laughed no more. I have bad vision so I didn't really notice my mother that quickly. But I'm sure she noticed me. I was then so ashamed of myself. A police woman in the court room was trying to frighten me and tell me that my mother would beat me. I wasn't afraid at all to tell her, as I knew she had just made that up, "My mother doesn't hit me," I told her.

The judge called on me and I stood there and said nothing as the judge told me that my records would be cleared if I didn't do anything to get me in trouble. I had no problem with that. What I took as odd was that the judge did not fine me or commit me to community service. I guess it was because we had spent time in jail overnight. Everything was finally over..

NOT!

When I came in contact with my mother she wouldn't even look at me in the face. She did say though that she was agitated at the fact that they kept us overnight. She really didn't say anything afterwards, she sat silently reading a book on the train. My friend's mother did not come so my friend came with me. It was cold out and I hadn't taken a shower. I felt as if I had just woke up. I was one-hundred percent sure that this would never happen again. Now every time I see someone skip the train. I remember what it would be like to spend the night there (in jail).

Here's a word of advice: