“They’d told him The Tombs was dehumanizing. They’d told him that the scumbags in the cells used the sinks as urinals, even though there was a toilet in every cell (conveniently located where everyone could see you using it.) They’d told him about the endless flights of stairs that make you feel like you’re going down, down, down into the bowels of the earth. They hadn’t mentioned the aura of resigned acceptance the staff seemed to have about working there. Riot? Explosion? A sudden influx of sc...reaming, bloody, potentially contaminated children? Just another day in the life of Lower Manhattan. Randy and Tim had been at The Tombs, standing in a line for nearly two and a half hours…only to determine it was the wrong line. “Are you kidding me?” Randy said. The desk clerk didn’t make eye contact. She looked over his shoulder wearily, and said, “Next.” “Ma’am,” he said, in a tone of voice that conveyed far more impatience than respect, “We’ve been here since this morning.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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