The argument over my crime continued for a few minutes until the largest of the men finally ended it by turning to me. "You in for a misdemeanor?

“Felonies”, I mumbled, playing with my shoes and trying to end the conversation I knew I shouldn’t have started.

“Oh shit man, that’s hardcore.” he said to me before turning to the other men in the cell. “This guy can do some crazy shit, he’s cool.”

I didn’t know whether to be happy or afraid, the bogus charges that had me in here were winning respect. I kept thinking about prison movies where you have to start a fight to get respect, yet somehow amongst this group of petty drug dealers, illegal DVD resellers and homeless, I was tough with my white collar crimes.

“When they let you out, they’re gonna monitor your computer” he continued to me. I didn’t know his name and was to scared to address any formalities in this setting.

“I have a boy down in DC that does my IDs”. He pulled out a bulging wallet and revealed, several different state IDs with his photo.