You don't get butter with your grits in jail.
Within 8 hours I learned a few things about myself, and came to realize how spoiled a life I really lead.
I'm polite. My arresting officer was grateful that I didn't attack him like the guy before me. The woman who took my mugshot was humored by the fact I didn't scowl at the camera. My cellmate adored me because I was "so cheerful and easy to talk to." We bonded over the most disgusting breakfast, if one could call it such. (Is it weird to have pride in such a pride-breaking situation?)
The reason cops wear long sleeve shirts all the time is because the jail house is FREEZING. Which absolutely blows when they take your two summer blankets (yes, I'm aware that it's nearly 30 degrees outside, but summer blankets are all they have) from you before 7 o'clock.
Sleeping on a floor is rough on your back, neck, head, and whichever arm and hip you end up sleeping on.
No one cares. Really. You're on your own, and you can't get upset about it.
I have a stronger constitution than I realize.
You don't get your own restroom in jail.
Real handcuffs are a pain in the ass, and extremely uncomfortable.
Don't smile at the men, they're even creepier than the weirdos in the mall or in Wal-Mart.
I'm not sure what kind of meat it is they put on your lunch sandwich, but DON'T EAT IT. It will make you want to vom.
All of this being said, I will inform you I'm not some crazy.
I was just trying to get home after a night out with friends and went through a roadblock. Didn't come out so lucky -__-