In my nearly half-century on this earth, I’ve experienced quite a bit. Having spent more than just a night or two homeless, I was taken aback by a news clip I’d seen a few years back, which profiled a San Francisco company that, for a not at all nominal fee, would allow you to experience homelessness for 24-48 hours. Let that sink in for a moment. People paying to be… Homeless.
Now, my years as an addict and general loser at the game of life have shown me much. I’ve been turned away from a homeless shelter for not having something with an address on it and I’ve been put on hold after, in a moment of legitimate crisis, I dialed up a suicide hotline – so, I was comfortable in saying that I’d thought I’d seen it all. Yesterday, while reading a several weeks old edition of a National Newspaper (and, FYI, by the time a newspaper finally does trickle down to me it is at best, several weeks old, as the twelve cents on the hour that I am paid to teach G.E.D. classes and wash dishes in here does not allow for luxuries such as newspaper subscriptions.), I was proved wrong.
For the past 15 years, save for a few short-lived tastes of freedom, I’ve been incarcerated, so I am the first to admit that I’m not hip to all of today’s latest trends. I’ve heard of “adventure tourism” and I’m well aware that it’s human nature to want to, occasionally, walk, if not quite a mile, at least a few yards in someone else’s shoes. That being said, I was still left shaking my head.
Turns out that, for those of you who would like to check a prison stay off your bucket list without complicating your life by acquiring a criminal record, there’s good news!
Want to pace the floor of the same six foot by nine-foot cell that Al Capone whiled away some time in? Want to lay your head on the same type of drab, not at all comfortable steel bunk that myself and thousands of other jailbirds drift off to dream on every night? Airbnb has got you covered, my friend.
From Iowa to New Zealand, decommissioned prisons are making their cells available to paying customers. Speaking from experience, of course, a concrete box and some iron bars do not a prison make. No, for a truly authentic experience, you’d need yelling guards, the ever-present threat of spontaneous violence in the air, and let’s not forget the random strip and cavity searches. Still though, this “prison cell as crash pad” model certainly does give one the opportunity to at least dip a toe into the vast and lonely ocean that is the penal system.
And for those of you looking for temporary prison time that ends with you tethered to your very own ball and chain, how about tying the knot behind bars? As a man who’s been married to and divorced from the same woman twice in the past two decades, and as a human being who is currently incarcerated, this particular idea both tickled and terrified me.
For $3,600 (midweek Wednesday discount, included seating for up to 55 guests, officiant and refreshments NOTincluded), you can embark upon your matrimonial journey at Eastern State Penitentiary in Philadelphia, PA. For 142 years, Eastern State served as a maximum-security facility that housed notorious criminals such as the aforementioned Mr. Capone, as well as Willie Sutton who, when asked why he robbed banks replied famously (and accurately), “Because that’s where the money is!”).
Decommissioned in 1971, Eastern State Penitentiary is now a historic site that rents itself out for, among other things, weddings. Lovebirds beware, though, the facility is NOT available for wintry or New Year’s nuptials, as the cost of heating such an old, large and, one assumes, miserable place is cost prohibitive so bookings don’t begin until April.
Maybe my current situation in life has me jaded, but I just don’t get it. I wouldn’t wish prison on anyone. Come to think of it, given my matrimonial record, I wouldn’t recommend that either, but to each his own.
What do I know?
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