My Prison Is Still Flouting Public Health Guidelines
MY MASK HANGS just below my nose, elastic worn and stretched out. Frequently, I pull it up, but it refuses to remain in place. I soldier on toward the dining hall with the rest of the prisoners. We’re herded in large clusters to our meal pickups in narrow corridors where social distancing is impossible. Once we get there, a guard at the entrance confronts me. “You need to have your mask on at all times, in a proper manner, no exceptions,” he says.
I don’t bother to argue or waste time trying to explain that the mask is worn out, has deteriorated beyond usefulness. I hold it above my nose until he is out of sight. I look over to see three guards sitting merely a foot or two apart from each other. Two have their masks resting on their chins, mouth and nose fully exposed while laughing and joking around. I wonder why the guard hasn’t reminded his co-workers to wear their masks properly. I’m annoyed as I continue toward