Because the banana I selected this morning was actually in a state of non-overripeness, I thought I'd comment on the board situation, given that I've already devoted a lot of time to room.

There's a chow hall, in which about four inmates, in lieu of having jobs on the outs work as chow hall workers. Chow is served four times per weekday, and three times on the weekend: 5am, 10am, 4:30pm, 8:30pm. Because they don't trust us with actual sharpesque-type objects, everything must be eatable with sporks. The meat is invariably some form of ground beef patty. They can mash it flat and cut it into a circle and call it salisbury steak. The can mash it flat and cut it into a square and call it meatloaf. They can roll it into spheres and call them meatballs, or they can not bother with any shaping whatsoever and just serve you ground beef globules. On Fridays, they serve fish (to cater to an overwhelming Catholic contingent) in the form of something you'd find in a Van de Kamps box. They'll serve it with a starch of some sort, most likely potatoes, mashed or julienned, or rice. The rice, when it's white, is too waterlogged and sticky, but when it's seasoned Spanish rice, then it's actually edible. Oftentimes, they'll also serve a second form of starch, either a tortilla or slices of bread (your choice of white or wheat). Their "salad" is shredded ice berg and small bits of onion, though sometimes they serve "cole slaw" which is basically ice berg with mayonnaise and chunks of pineapple. You also get two cartons of milk, middle school-sized pints. Salsa is optional, and their dessert cakes are alright, though sometimes they have scary-looking jello and scary-looking pudding. I usually pass on those.

Breakfast is actually the most hit or miss. It's a hit when it's pancakes or waffles, especially when it's combined with sausage and oatmeal or grits. Their "omelettes" consist of a scrambled egg acting as a taco, wrapping Velveeta "cheese". It's all pretty forgivable as soon as you introduce maple syrup into the equation, which really salvages the whole tray. Oftentimes they'll also serve peanut butter (out of one of those industrial-sized drums). Waffles, maple syrup and peanut butter: a winning combination. It's a miss when the eggs start to get overcooked, and by some miracle of steaming or poaching, the eggs begin to be discolored green. Personally, I've never overcooked and then steamed scrambled eggs, so this was the first time I've actually seen it, but it's fairly foul-lookin'. Make no mistake about it. It tastes rubbery and chewy, and it's a severe appetite-depleter.

Every day there are bag lunches provided for people to take with them to their job site, consisting of two sandwiches of soggy bread and luncheon meat. The bread sticks to meat so that it's impossible to pry it apart and introduce positive flavoring agents such as salt, pepper, mayonnaise, relish, ketchup, salad dressing, or arsenic. The meats are either a malcured balogna or, even worse, off-colored turkey meat, ranging in color from light gray to dark gray, and often times exhibiting both colors on the same slice. Included in these bag lunches is a bag of chips, either Lays or Fritos. Also, there exists a crate of fruit, from which I procured an actual good-looking banana this morning, but usually are in such a state of overripeness that one could also accurately describe them as rotten. On good days, though, I take the oranges and save the peels to release their scent in our overused bathroom.

The saving graces are the vending machines, without which many would starve, and the prospect of actually having to spend money on top of the existing fees is gladly traded for the chance to have food that's fresh and flavorful and wholly unnutritious. Various chips, powdered donuts, pretzels, sodas, and other items exist, as you would expect, but packaged sandwiches and salads are there as well. These are the kind that you would expect to find in a gas station refrigerator next to the 12-pack of Bud Light. In addition, there is a finicky coffee machine that produces pretty good quality mochas, lattes, and espressos, and for the reasonable price of $1.10 for a 16-ounce cup. This amounts to a venti at Starbucks, without half of the flavor (let's give credit where credit is due) for about a fourth of the price and none of the pretention. My diet has pretty much devolved to the point where I only eat at chow every other day in order to maintain my taste for good food, and also because I only arrive in time for the late chow, which is a mere couple of hours before lockdown. Sundays are a welcome reprieve for me, as are the to-go orders delivered back to work for me, and the daily cafeteria here. I used to treat the Company Cafe with such disdain and contempt as to forgo the free meals that my job provided in favor of driving off on my lunch hour. No such arrogance is allowed anymore, nor do I think such arrogance still exists. Standing in a chow line, waiting for my metal tray of sporkable food: it humbles you pretty quickly.