My incarceration must have been because of a misdemeanor. While on all four sides the walls were indeed heavy-gage steel bars and while the door to my cell had a lock, the key was in my pocket. Additionally, having my laptop and camera and cellphone in the cell didn't seem to be an issue. Early on someone even brought me some weed and a pipe.
But the logic centers of my brain wouldn't accept this. So throughout my stay in Mexican prison my personal belongings would remain hidden in a secret compartment of my cot's mattress. Paranoia expressed itself when upon one return to my cell found the door unlocked and the laptop missing, only to discover it under a Helmut Lang sweater.
Yes, for the weeks (it was a long dream) that were spent in the Mexican prison my wardrobe was normal. Occasionally though other inmates would be seen wearing a grey damask jumpsuit-type uniforms, usually very tight in the legs and buttocks and unbuttoned to reveal dark tanned furry chests. All of the inmates were very sexual, sneaking into one another's cells or having orgies in the showers. For whatever reason there was a porn video - straight porn - hidden in my mattress as well - a VHS cassette, not a DVD. The video was very popular, with one of the guards sneaking off with it and returning it with a dab of goo on the sleeve.
Toward the end of my stay, while humping another inmate in his cell, Selma Hayek came in with a breakfast tray and began to chat with me about Ugly Betty, a show that despite having only seen two episodes of, was something of which expert knowledge was now mine.
Suddenly, into the cell with Selma, humpee and me burst Vicente Fox, declaring "Usted está haciendo gordo, Rod. Mire su vientre*." My reply, "¿Entonces porqué soy aquí en cama con su esposa, Selma?**" sent him away.
Selma and I agreed that the pitfall of doing Ugly Betty in the states was that, where the telenovela format forced strong character arcs, American television executives look at their programming as brands that they want to last as long as possible thus causing the characters to languish over time. We agreed to work on definitive arcs for the second season and that a few episodes would carry my name as lead writer. She poured me another glass of orange juice leaving my prison trade and I alone at last.
And then I woke up.
* - "You're getting kind of fat, Rod. Look at your belly."
** - "Then why am I in bed with your wife, Selma?"
