I spent last night in jail. This is what the experience of being in jail is like.

It wasn’t my first rodeo. I’ve been to jail before. It did seem like the coldest, most inhumane treatment I’ve received in a jail though, despite the duration being only 10 hours from time of arrest to time of release. I will not be discussing why I was arrested in the first place, only the experience of what going to jail is like.

Mostly writing this for those lefty white people who are deathly afraid of getting in trouble with the law.

So what happens during an arrest? Well, the police give you orders, and if you don’t follow them, they’ll make you follow them. I didn’t visibly have any weapons on me, so I didn’t get shot at or anything, though I tried to resist following orders at first. Then they handcuffed me. Handcuffs force your arms into extremely uncomfortable positions and they are rather unpleasant. I hope we do away with them and find some better way of restraining people. I wouldn’t say I was in pain when in handcuffs, but extreme discomfort when I wasn’t a violent threat was a sucky experience.

I think emotionally and mentally while you are in the process of being arrested you feel mostly in shock and kind of numb. Anyways, I waited a while while handcuffed in the freezing cold for the right cop car to arrive, though several had already arrived on the scene and there were like 10 cops near me.

After the right cop car had arrived I was searched and allowed to sit in the back of the car. I waited for another transport vehicle to take me to an undisclosed police location where I could get processed. They do not tell you where they are taking you, and I was too numb to ask. I will also note the police have to help you maneuver in and out of vehicles because doing that while handcuffed is difficult and you are off balance without your arms being free.

After I got to a holding cell, which is a pretty sizeable cell with 2 benches (had lots of carvings on them) and a metal seat-less toilet with sink in the back (no TP though), I was read my Miranda rights, which included the right to remain silent and the right to get a lawyer, etc. The female officer asked if I wanted to answer any questions, and I said that was fine, and I answered a few. Then came the wait.

The hours of waiting in a holding cell by myself was tiring. I didn’t sleep (it’s hard to when you’re in jail and it’s not exactly comfortable) but I thought and cried a bit. I was offered water a few times and I requested food at one point but never got any. The only belongings I had on me were my coat, which they’d taken the gloves out of, and a mask. They tried to take my wedding ring off but it was stuck on. I didn’t have a purse or a phone. There’s really nothing to do in a holding cell all by yourself, and the isolation seemed cruel and unusual. I saw others getting brought in as well, like an older black man. In previous arrest experiences I’d usually been kept in holding with other arrestees.

At around 6 am (I’d been arrested around 4) a nice FBI agent came and interviewed me. He was sharp and conversational and a bit patronizing in a dad-like way (man, I’m 31 and married). At some points in the conversation I almost felt like I was a therapist he was practicing catharsis on. He made clear he was employed by the FBI and not involved in the decision the Chicago Police Department (CPD) was making about what to charge me with, and that they were working on my paperwork.

The paperwork seemed to take much longer than the previous bookings — I’d usually have been fingerprinted by now. At some point they decided they were ready to fingerprint me and they took my mugshots. I was handcuffed as soon as I was out of the holding cell and until I was in the fingerprinting area.

Then they transferred me to another police district. Again, no explanation of where I was going, and I was handcuffed during the transit, which seemed to take forever, though at least there was a window so I could see Chicago streets. I’d also asked for a lawyer at some point during the holding stay and there was acknowledgment of my request but no further response.

At the new district, I waited a bit to be un-handcuffed and even then they told me to keep my hands in the handcuffed position. After like 10 minutes they let me into the new holding area. I was searched again — the third time this morning. I got a receipt for my personal property. They asked me if I wanted to make a phone call, so I made one, to my dad, whose number I have memorized because thankfully I am a millennial and remember what it was like to not have a cell phone.

They offered me a sandwich and led me to an isolated holding cell (these really suck). It was much the same as the last cell: two benches, a pad for a bed, a metal toilet and sink. This time they did offer toilet paper. The sandwich was a white bread sandwich with mystery meat. Not exciting but it was food so I ate since I was really exhausted at this point.

I waited for a while after eating, because no one had told me anything yet at this new police district. Eventually I got tired of waiting and pounded hard on the glass window repeatedly until I got someone’s attention. Amazingly, they let me out on my recognizance, which was something they had mentioned considering as a possibility but I thought had been discounted due to the move between police districts.

I used the phone to call loved ones and got a ride out of the police station, and I walked free, pending a trial date next month. Freedom, even after a bit period of a loss of it, takes some getting used to, and I felt a bit unwieldy, though relieved.

Overall, it was a dehumanizing and isolating experience, and the police should be abolished.