My Lame Night in Alcatrazzz

A few weeks ago the phone rang for me in the office. I have worked for VICE for over three years, but NEVER ONCE has the phone rung for me. Who was it? The council looking for unpaid taxes? A stalker who'd stuck a pin in a list of really, really cool people and who was now out to murder me? Fortunately the call was about neither of these things. I was just going to Alcatraz.

Yeah, Alcatraz – there's a new show coming on the TV soon named after the famous hell-house, and someone'd had the bright idea of asking journalists to stay in a "recreation" of it for promo. 'Cool,' I thought, without really thinking.

The day to surrender my freedom arrived, and though I was a little nervous, I was actually looking forward to the experience (I even arrived early).

Here is a breakdown of my brief stint in "the big house". Would I learn any valuable life lessons on the "inside"?

6.30PM - Check-in
Check-in was surprisingly realistic. I mean, I have only spent one night in a cell before on a minor drugs charge, but I'm pretty sure the way they dealt with me that night at Wood Street police station was similar to the way Al Capone and Robert "Birdman" Stroud were treated at The Rock years ago. The atmosphere in the rented design studio prison was sterile and silent. Upon arrival, I was met by those guys in that photo up there. I identified the leader, and wondered what I'd have to do to make him drop his act. What if I shit myself? What if I made him shit himself? Would he then be able to maintain his steely-eyed ruse? Unfortunately, I had no time to find out. The guards came for me. They told me I had to always call them "sir".

6.45PM - Playing dress-up
While still in my civvies, I had my mugshot taken, before being made to sign a disclaimer and receiving my "uniform". This consisted of a pair of grey tracksuit bottoms, a V-neck T-shirt and some other shirt, which had all been bought from Primark before having "USP ALCTRAZ" stencilled on them. So far, so authentic.

I was led to a back toilet to change into my new garms, but they hadn't bothered to decorate this part of the fake prison, so already the pretence was slipping. The guard banging on the door every 30 seconds asking me to hurry up almost brought me back to jail, but when I walked out and saw the PR guy sat at a desk on his laptop I knew this might be a testing evening. I wanted to feel like I was really a felon so dangerous that they'd had to put a bit of sea between me and the rest of the human race, not like I was playing a part in a lame pantomime in King's Cross.
 
7PM - Imprisonment begins
I was then led to my cell. Of the four that had been erected, one was already manned by a pleasant-looking lady who frankly also looked like she was too old to indulge in this childish bullshit. I was locked in the cell next to this definite psychotic babykiller who probably also worked for Heat. We were then told that there would be no talking, so we sat there in silence staring back at the guards, tyrants who'd only get up from their chairs every so often to top up our Evian.

If these walls could speak (you probably wouldn't listen)
 
7.30PM - Ordering dinner
The third "prisoner" showed up just before dinner. We were told we would have just 60 SECONDS to order our meals, and that if we did not know what we wanted we would not be given more time. I spluttered out an order for winglets, an Alcatraz burger (no bread or aioli), chunky chips and side salad. I'd hate to meet the sadist who dreamed that one up.
 
7.45PM - Tasks begin
I was quite looking forward to the tasks. Unfortunately, the first one was, "How to knit a scarf". It was awful. I sucked. The next task was just presented as "Lego". The first thing that came to mind to build was a key. I tried, but lost interest after a while. Then I remembered this killer drawbridge thing I'd made for my nephew once, so I set about recreating that instead. When the time came to give it back, I handed it to the guard who promptly dropped it on the floor, smashing it back to pieces. Futility. The guy in the next cell actually made the key and they all started sucking his dick through the bars because it was so awesome. I glowered at this teacher's pet and vowed that I would shank him.
 
9PM - Dinner time
I waited as the food was served, one cell at a time. My Alcatraz burger arrived with no relish or side salad. More psychological warfare. I turned to the ribs, which were o-k-a-y I guess, but this was a week ago and my stomach has not been the same since I ate that meal. Seriously, I have been to Asia and not had a stomach this bad afterwards.

9.30PM - Screening of Alcatraz
A big flatscreen was fitted in the cell room and a copy of the first episode was played, the quality landing between iPhone and something you'd get from one of those Chinese guys who are always getting chased out of pubs. It was also all out of ratio, which I really hate, and though I think it may have been entertaining in places, it was difficult to tell when there are big (fake) iron bars obstructing your view.

This is a press photo. There were no babes IRL.
 
10.30PM - Reward time
Great news! We would be allowed our belongings back. I was so bored that, at the time, I didn't really think about why they let us have our phones, but later I realised it was so we could tweet about how wonderful and crazy and terrifying the evening had been so far. Unfortunately, I don't have an iPhone. In fact, I hadn't brought a phone or any belongings with me at all. The guard tossed me a pencil and some paper out of pity, then dimmed the lights to make handwriting even more impossible than a decade or so of computer keyboards have already made it for me.

I was allowed to meet the other two journalists at this point, too. The middle-aged lady was a travel blogger who didn't have anywhere to stay so had asked to sleep there as she needed to be up early the next day for a Hockney exhibition. The other guy would be celebrating his 40th birthday when we all awoke in the morning.
 
11.45PM - Lights out
Turns out that nice lady snores like an industrial photocopier.

11.48PM - WTF is the safe word?
It was impossible to sleep. The room was damp and I was getting hot and cold flushes from rib nausea. I looked through the bars in the dim light of the design studio and saw one of the guards, still in uniform, tip-toeing through the room. 'Fuck this,' I thought. 'This is over for me.' I couldn't remember the safe word, but something existential must have happened to the guards because they didn't care, even offering to call me a cab.

Midnight - Jailbreak!
I cycled home on my bike, and awoke the next morning feeling freer than Mystikal. Sure, you might think I'm a pussy for not going through with it, but I did learn some valuable life lessons from this exercise. I learned the whole point of jail is that you are locked away from civilisation in silence to think over the crimes you have committed, to more easily hear the stirrings of inner remorse and then to (hopefully) reform yourself. Spending a night in a fake jail because you haven't done anything wrong and thus have nothing to ponder is, however, totally pointless and devoid of any sort of value.

Alcatraz premiered on Watch last night.