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Besides the fun of chopping up pictures to bring them into prison, the rest of the entry process is also great fun.

You get to take off your shoes and your belt, and while you're holding your pants up with one hand, you use the other hand to sign a waiver. The waiver states that you are entering at your own risk; that nobody will care about you if you're taken hostage in the event of a riot; you may be violated anally by the guards; but your momma belongs to the warden. I've been signing this stimulating waiver for years, but it's just a tease to keep you coming back. They never really deliver.

In the end there was no hostage situation, no riot, nor any of the other fun promised in the waiver. I had to come back to SF to encounter violence: today a bicyclist challenged me to a fistfight in traffic!

I think I must have cut him off by accident, but I didn't notice until he pulled up and started pounding on my passenger window. The fact that I wouldn't get out and fight him seemed to make him even more furious. He chased me and caught up to me at stop lights several times. Finally he got off his bike and kicked the back of my car. Silly boy, everybody knows it's far easier to dent the passenger door or key the paint. I do sympathize, though, because drivers used to piss me off when I was a bicyclist. Unfortunately for him, the only noticable mark he left on my car was a footprint in the month's-old dust. If I ever see him again, I'll have to thank him for making the only clean spot on my car. Oooh, ahmunna change my profile pic for this
story.