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The following night I continued my anthropological research into the dives and bars of Guam. My crazy friend brought me to Mac and Marti’s, where a band was playing.

During the very long sound check, I had a pretty good blue cheese burger and the execrable house red (Aged grape juice, but then I am the idiot who ordered wine in this place). I was feeling badass because I was hanging out with an ex-convict. Seriously. Not too long ago my crazy friend had to spend 48 hours in jail for drunk driving, so she would start sentences with, “When I was in jail.” Like, “When I was in jail I had an epiphany.”

She was told to bring appropriate work clothes for community service; naturally she brought beaded dresses and thigh-high boots. Of course these were confiscated and for two days she had to wear the orange prison uniform. From hereon I shall call her Manila Hilton.

She remembered to bring something to read, but her book was in hardcover so that was confiscated, too. I guess a file could be hidden in the spine of the book and smuggled into prison, only by the time she cut through the prison bars her sentence would long be over. Knowing Manila Hilton she would probably smuggle mascara or an eyelash curler.

So her book was confiscated and Manila Hilton needed something to read, right, she’s not my friend for nothing. She went to the prison library and they lent her a book called Royal Baby On The Way. It was about a princess who visits Texas or something, falls in love and gets knocked up by a cowboy. It was atrocious, but Manila Hilton said, “When I was in jail I learned to focus.” You know, she’s going to dine out on her 48-hour incarceration for the rest of her life.

Manila Hilton not only read Royal Baby On The Way, she actually got into it, and when her 48 hours were up she was distressed because she hadn’t finished it.

“Don’t tell me. You stole a romance novel from the prison library.”

“No! When I was in prison I had time to think.” So when she got out she found a copy of Royal Baby On The Way and finished reading it.

“How was it?” I asked.

“It was the real punishment for my DUI (driving under the influence).”

TO BE CONTINUED