The building from the outside didn't look scary. It was a gray concrete building with a sign at the front desk proclaiming it to be a correctional institution. There was only one way for the general public to enter. I suppose it was to keep the civilians from interfering with the officers who were transporting criminals...potential criminals to the facility.

I entered and walked up to the what looked like the information desk.

"Hello, my friend has been brought here, I would like to see him?"

"Is your friend being released?" the officer asked me.

"No, it's just a visit?"

"What's his name?"

"Robert Crowther. C-R-O-W-T-H-E-R"

The officer typed the name into his terminal. He determined that the individual was at the facility, that he was allowed visitors, and that none of the investigators were interested in him at the moment.

"He's at Cell-Block Francis. You see the green line on the floor. Follow it until you come to another desk and tell the officer there what you told me. They can help you."

I saw the green line and followed it through the building. I entered the doors which were unlocked, and walked down corridors until I found the location I was told. I followed the procedures as I was told. There were forms to be signed, IDs to be shown, and a search of myself to prove I was who I said I was and I didn't have ill intent.

I was finally brought to an area where I could see my friend. There was a glass partition that would separate us. There were signs that explained the rules, that said that there wouldn't be any privacy, and what would happen if I broke any of the rules. Security guards were everywhere as well as cameras.

I waited in the assigned spot.

My friend Robert had been arrested for shoplifting. He was apparently caught and sent to prison. He would have to stay here several days until a judge heard his preliminary case.

As I sat there I imagined what I would see. I assumed he would be in some sort of dull orange oversized jumpsuit. He might be in an oversized T-shirt and pants. The T-shirt would have large white and orange stripes and the pants would look so baggy that they would probably look more like pajama bottoms than pants. I assumed there wouldn't be any buttons on the clothes or strings to hold up the pants. He'll probably be in handcuffs, at least until he takes his seat in front of me. This is what I saw in the movies, that is probably how it is in real life.

I couldn't have been more wrong. A guard escorted my friend into the room on the opposite side of the glass. He was dressed like a fifties housewife. He was wearing a white dress with a red rose print. It was a short-sleeved, knee-length dress with a flared skirt and a square neckline. He was obviously wearing pantyhose and he walked on tan pumps with a sturdy two-inch heel. His long brown hair had been permed into an updo His lips were painted a rich scarlet and his cheeks were coated with blush. The nails of his fingers were painted the same shade of red as on his lips. He looked miserable.

Before I could ask anything, "I know, I know," he told me. "They made me wear this."

"Made you wear that?"

"You think I want to dress like this?

"They make you dress like Lucy from that I Love Lucy show."

"Yes, they did. And I'm one of the lucky ones."

"Lucky?"

"They have us all dressed in odd ways. They said it stops us from fighting."

"It does?"

"Apparently. Because if you don't behave it gets worse."

"What do you mean gets worse?"

"They have people dressed in all sorts of costumes. I saw this one guy with a long ponytail. He is wearing a skin-tight jumpsuit, with a white apron, and roller skates on his feet. He looks like a server from one of those ice cream shops of the sixties. You know like Sonics today."

"Come on."

"Why would I lie? I mean you see how I'm dressed. There are other people dressed as old ladies. Some are so old that they are in permanent wheelchairs they can't get out of. There are also men who are dressed like little girls and some as toddlers or infants. The infants wear mittens that make their hands useless. They even have to wear diapers."

"You're shitting me."

"No."

"Anyone dressed like regular inmates?"

"I haven't seen any."

"Why are you dressed like this?"

"I was a shoplifter. They thought this was appropriate."