After passing through the metal detector and enduring yet another intrusion under the silly "drug sniffer," the guard wanted me to get undressed. The rules for visiting at the Frackville state prison in Eastcentral Pennsylvania provide that durg sniffing should be done "randomly." The guards can't seem to cope with big words like "randomly," so they subject every visitor (but not the staff) to examination with the bogus drug "scanner" every time we visit. Of course, it's just for harassment. At Frackville much of the staff can't seem to cope with their jobs or, with everyday life. The guard who was trying to process me for my visit had just had to admit an official visitor carrying some brochures in a briefcase. He hassled her to show him her "machine." Apparently he didn't realize that brochures were papers. At the Frackville prison women get picked on and treated badly. I think it's revenge for how the guards are henpecked at home. The mentally challenged guard demanded that I strip off my sweater. There's no rule like that! At the Frackville prison rules are invented day to day. As I say, the staff can't cope. Their strong point is bullying. Take off my sweater? I thought that was a tad intrusive. But I complied. But why? I wanted to know. I'd already passed the metal detector and drug sniffer. The poor dear had to think hard. The guards are so used to mistreating the prisoners and are so contemptuous of families that they think we should be rudely ordered around, too. The guard finally invented a reason for me to partially disrobe for him; I might, he asserted, have "something" taped to my shirt under my sweater. Yeah, that's likely, if I was going to "tape" something, I'd certainly tape it to my shirt, not to my skin, wouldn't I? As I say, the guards can't cope. The guard was completely rattled. Another guard asked him what the problem was and insisted that I take off my sweater, which I had already done. A report was scribbled down. I'd actually questioned his right to have me remove my clothes. I'd had the unthinkable temerity to question a state employee. What did I think I was, a citizen? He reported my impudence to a second guard who was no more competent that the first. What next? I might write a letter to the warden asking who was selling shirts out of the prison lobby. No rule requires a visitor to undress or remove a sweater, or to waive her rights or dignity when visiting even Frackville prison, the halitoses of the system. When you go there, expect to be harassed and treated badly. Inside, while visiting, one of the guards hassled an old man visiting next to me. The visitor was reading a sheet of paper. The guard didn't want him to be reading. Things in writing terrify the semi-literate staff. To them writing is sinister and subversive, unsavory. Of course, the guard was simply being intrusive and trying to impose himself into the man's visit. It made him feel important and powerful. After annoying and hassling other visitors for no good reason at all, a guard approached me. On the table in front of me I'd neatly gathered some trash from the wrappers of overpriced vending machine food, stuffing several wrappers inside of a larger one. The guard wanted to know if one of the wrappers was a bag from cookies or from chips. I'm not making any of this up. That was the guy's real concern. Actually, the bag was from pretzel pieces. The point seemed to be that I couldn't have an empty potato chip package on the table, but apparently I could have an empty cookie package. Of course, there's not really any such rule, but it gave the guard an opportunity to disturb my visit and to feel important. Feeling important is essential to these guys. The justification for the "rule" seemed to be that drugs might be inside an empty potato chip bag. Rational is not what the guards are good at. I simply carried all the trash to the receptacle. That's what I should have done in the first place to discourage the guard from inviting himself into my visit. A little later the vending machine serviceman came to restock the machines. A guard conducted an intimate conversation with him. The guard strolled off with an armful of sandwiches that he didn't pay for. Of course, that had nothing to do with me, but it presented a questionable picture. Being such a great guy, the guard was probable going to give the sandwiches to prisoners and the vendor was no doubt delighted to contribute them. My visit on the seventh serves as an example for other visitors. When you go to the Frackville prison, expect to be hassled as if you were crossing the border into any other dictatorship. Rules will materialize out of thin air. Above all, remember that you are no longer a citizen and expect to be ordered around and debased as if you were a prisoner.

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