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PRISONERS' DAY

After Mike went crazy, I decided to slow down on the cocaine. The amount I was doing was way too much for my system. But although I promised myself many times to stop, I kept taking it; we may have been locked in prison, but there was always something to celebrate.

In addition to the weddings, birthdays and baptisms inside the jail, the prisoners celebrated all the traditional festivals and holidays on the outside: Christmas, Easter, la Noche de San Juan, la Entrada de Gran Poder, Bolivia's Independence Day, Peru's Independence Day, Ecuador's Independence Day. In fact, any country's Independence Day or anyone's ex-girlfriend's birthday that we could remember. And if there was ever a dispute as to the correct date, we would have two parties – just to be sure that we hadn't miscelebrated.

Basically, the inmates used any excuse to throw a party, but one day stood out as being particularly special, Prisoners' Day, because it was our day. On the twenty-fourth of September every year, people on the outside were supposed to spare a thought for us – all the unfortunate inmates incarcerated around the nation. Even if they didn't think of us, it was certainly our biggest party of the year.

That was the day we prisoners were allowed to really let loose. The sections hired bands and we danced and drank all day, all night and all the next day. You could do anything you wanted and the police wouldn't bust you. Besides, they were usually too drunk themselves. One year, the major on duty even sent me a few grams of coke. And because you could do anything, there was no limit to the number of tourists I could have to spend the night.

The biggest-ever Prisoners' Day celebration occurred during my third year, which was also when the tours were at their peak. I started