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"I like the locker-key rip-off," a veteran said. "You hang around a railroad station till you see a little old lady tryin' to lift a suitcase or a big package into one a them lockers. You put it in for her and hand her the key. Only it's the key to an empty locker. When she leaves, you empty her locker and split."
In the yard another afternoon, two inmates convicted of prostitution and possession of cocaine were talking to a new arrival, a pretty young girl who looked no more than seventeen.
"No wonder you got busted, honey," one of the older women scolded. "Before you talk price to a John, you gotta pat him down to make sure he ain't carryin' a gun,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], and never tell him what you're gonna do for him. Make him tell you what he wants. Then if he turns out to be a cop,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], it's entrapment,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych],[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], see?"
The other pro added,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], "Yeah. And always took at their hands. If a trick says he's a workin' man,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], see if his hands are rough. That's the tip-off. A lot of plainclothes cops wear workin' men's outfits,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], but when it comes to their hands,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], they forget, so their hands are smooth."
Time went neither slowly nor quickly. It was simply time. Tracy though of St. Augustine's aphorism: "What is time? If no one asks me,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], I know. But if I have to explain it, I do not know."
The routine of the prison never varied: