Blowing Up

Our dayroom is a perfect square shape. Two corners host a TV each, and rows of benches are arranged so each have a view of at least one of the TVs. Tables make an L-shape down one wall and halfway up another on the other side of the room from the TVs.

Inmates play board games on the tables or just sit and talk. Well, one aspect of Prison Culture is its adherence to gambling. The two TVs are designated to sports and movies, respectively, but if one is ever out of commission, sports will inevitably play on the other. Why? Well, there’s money on every sports game, and even if it’s one beat up Ramen noodle soup (the standard unit of currency in here), that trumps all other concerns. And, at the tables, if gambling is desired, any non-gambling occupants must get up.

Usually, there’s a poker game and a “knock” (a domino gambling game) table operating at all times. And as a poker lover from way back, I’ll occasionally sit at the poker table. As we’ve been on chickenpox quarantine, I’ve put in a bit more work there lately and have done relatively well thus far.

Now, there are two kinds of gambling and they’re informally known as “out of the house” and “out of the store.”

Obviously, the former is with commissary on hand, and the latter on credit until the next commissary date. At the outset of the quarantine, we were playing out of the store because we hadn’t been to commissary in so long. So, one guy blew up to the tune of fifty dollars, and when he went to commissary, said that he didn’t have enough to cover the entire amount. He paid a few people, while another individual and myself, as his largest debt holders, agreed to let him pay us out of the following commissary.

Generally, after someone blows up and has trouble paying, the table as a whole will play only out of the house for a while, as all tend to be left with a bitter taste. That’s what happened this time, but in a strange turn of events, the individual who still owed myself and one other guy, returned to the table to play out of house. Of course, that is a social faux pas, as said individual supposedly had no money, and since that money should have been ours, we were now gambling against our own money!

Yet, supposedly because I had an agreement (even if built atop his deceit) with this guy, I didn’t object to his playing. And because he can be counted on to consistently blow up, the table ignored the principle as well.

When he, with a wandering eye, moseyed by the table, he was barraged with invitations to play. As he accepted, I remember sitting there, smug and smiling, feeling righteous indignation at my companions’ thinly veiled opportunism. And after playing for about two hours, the hapless patsy had blown up again.

Later, however, upon introspection, I realized that, far from any supposed sinlessness, I was perhaps the most damnable of all. For what was my motive in allowing myself to be put in the position of gambling against my own money? Would I do that with a skilled player? Certainly not. I only allowed that to happen because I knew of his impending blow up, and the potential it had to pad my pockets.

Yet there I sat, brimming with pretense—the benevolent patron—and with the audacity to silently condemn the unbridled greed on my companions. My greed, on the other hand, was bridled, which was all the worse because that means I knew of its existence, its nature and how to handle it.

I’ll definitely work on that in the future.