I arrived in McRae, GA in the afternoon on Saturday, June 2nd after driving 300 miles from Charlotte, NC. It rained the whole way, and continued raining through the night. The town of McRae has a population of 2000. The prison holds 1700. I wouldn't be surprised to learn that prisoners are counted as residents... the town is tiny. At the point where two railroad tracks intersect, there is a block of old, boarded up shops. Farther down the main road there is a strip mall with a grocery store, discount clothing, and other assorted shops. The dairy queen marquee says "Jesus Loves You". I stopped at the Travel Lodge and inquired about a room. "$55" said the man from India.

"That's a bit high for me, is there anything else in the area?"
"There's one across the street and another at the other end of town."

I went to the one across the street, the Budget Motel. Another Indian woman greeted me, this time with a price of $35. I took it. I unloaded my luggage and drove into town. Mr. Thomas had warned me of the "gizmo" at the prison that can detect drugs on you, even if you touched something that had drugs on it at one point. Having spent two days travelling to see him, I wasn't going to take any chances, so I went to the discount clothing store and bought a new set of clothes. The only shoes that fit the bill (no sandals allowed) were a pair of brown leather clogs with a black faux fur lining... absolutely hideous... but shoes would be the major offender, second only to money.

I returned to the motel and turned on the TV. I was immediately confronted by hard-core porn. I had trouble getting to sleep, so I watched Pirates of the Carribean: the curse of the black pearl, and re-read Mr. Thomas' letters in the commercials. He was a creature of the sea before going to prison, and to the sea he will return when he gets out. He was even arrested whilst smuggling in the Carribean, but I will get to that later. He wrote, "20 months - maybe 16 if I'm lucky - and then rapidly arrange another boat - Oh yeah!! - Me & Jack Sparrow - Ho! Ho! Ho! You will always be welcome wench - ar ye strong? - can ye fight?"

I finally drifted off to sleep about 11:30. At midnight, there was a knock on the door. I ignored it and fell asleep again. At some unknown time later, the phone rang. I couldn't understand the heavy Indian accent at first, but eventually I understood it to say, "Is Michael there?". Nooooooo..... SLAM!

I had set my alarm for 7am, but because of the loud air conditioning, I didn't hear it, and woke on my own at 8:15. I had planned to take a shower, to further rid myself of any rogue drug traces, but I decided to just pack and go.

The prison was just up the road leading out of town. I went in with only my freshly washed driver's license and a $20 bill. Everyone else had bags full of quarters, and there was a change machine in the lobby, but it only accepts $1's and $5's. I went back to my car and got all the $1's I had, which was only 7. I changed them and proceded through the metal detector... there was no drug-detecting 'gizmo'.

The room looks like a high-school cafeteria, with rows of square tables fixed to the floor, and four grey, plastic chairs around each. The chairs were not fixed to the floor. At one end of the room, two guards sat on a raised platform behind a railling. There were 4 vending machines with soda, water, coffee, and various chips and sandwiches. There was an alcove with carpeting on the floor and half way up the walls. A TV was on at the end of the alcove and children played there. I was assigned a table and sat down to wait. After a few minutes, Mr. Thomas was escorted through a door.

He is tall and in good shape for 62. He has long strawberry blond hair and a thick white, trimmed beard and mustache peppered with strawberry blond. His face is smooth and free of age spots. Only the skin around his sharp blue eyes is wrinkled, which gives him a young, but infinitely wise look. We embraced. I had been instructed by Leo to cover him with hugs and kisses, but also warned that he had not touched a woman in 12 years, so it might be a bit messy...

We talked about Leo, our mutual friend in Arsetralia, as he calls it. Leo grew up with Mr. Thomas and his son in Capetown, South Africa. Leo was drawn to Mr. Thomas' "60's attitude", and contributed to his own deliquency as well. Mr. Thomas told me about going for a walk in the hills near Table Mountain, in search of the fly agaric mushroom. They found one, and Leo said that he was going to eat one filament of the shroom, and if he died in 3 days, they would know why. He didn't die, and they threw a small, exclusive party. Mr. Thomas said that Leo had cleared out his living room of all furniture except for a shelf with glassware on it. Suddenly, Leo came running out of the hallway and ran three or four steps straight up the wall. He fell backwards, and knocked some of the glassware off the shelf onto the floor where it smashed into bits. Getting up, he went back down the hall and did the same again, this time landing on shards of broken glass. Upon rising, Mr. Thomas said that Leo didn't have a single cut on him. Leo said that this was what the Vikings took before going into battle, and that was how they got the reputation of being fierce fighters, and totally insane.

Mr. Thomas told me the story of his capture. His wife of 20 years was having an affair with a fellow invloved in drug dealing. The wife and their daughter disappeared one day, and Mr. Thomas was led to believe that they would be killed if he did not take a load of cocaine into the U.S. He almost made it, but was dobbed in by the wife's lover.

He has been in prison for 13 years, being shuffled from prison to prison according to the needs of the Corrections Corporation of America. He has researched the private prison industry and is convinced that a deal was struck with legislators; they received shares in CCA and Wakenhut/GEO in exchange for mandatory sentencing laws which keep the prisons full. The corporations receive $25,000 per person per year in tax money. The prisoners are used as slave labor for other industries, and receive substandard care, adding to the corporate profits.

I was transfixed by him. He urged me to look into his eyes as much as possible and not break away. His face is compelling, and easy to watch. Combined with tales of adventure, corruption and decadence, the time flew by. At times, I could see nothing but those eyes. The room disappeared, and we were completely alone inside each other's minds. The room was very cold though, and I was not allowed to go back to my car to get more clothes. I drew my arms inside my shirt, which concerned Mr. Thomas greatly. He asked the guard if there was something I could wear, or if they could adjust the air conditioning. No and no. "I'd love to give you some of my heat" he said, as his eyelids drooped over his pupils, leaving no doubt about his meaning.

I was not surprised, shocked or offended at his lasciviousness. Only the most naive person would expect any less from a man in prison for 13 years. I was pleased to be able to indulge him in a rare treat. At one point he interrupted me and said, 'This is marvellous, I feel like I'm sitting in a pub again!"

He asked me about my relationships, and why I had no children. I did my best to explain. He told me about his beliefs about the body and the spirit. He has become a member of the Lakota religion and goes to a sweat lodge inside the prison every Saturday. He said that in the intense heat, the spirit becomes distinct from the body for a short time. We talked at length about spirituality, and my rabid atheism. At times, he strayed into the realm of what I consider to be 'kookville', but I threw a few leading questions in, to see how far he would take it. He always stopped at the edge of looniness and offered a caveat that he had no proof, but was going on instinct. We wrangled with the question of life after death.

A prisoner sat at a small desk in the corner. He had a digital camera. Mr. Thomas proposed that we have a photo taken together to send to Leo. He could not accept my money, but agreed to let Mr. Thomas pay him later. We went into the carpeted alcove for the photo.

I invited him to visit me in Tucson when he gets out, but he said that he will be deported to Ireland immediately. He wants nothing more to do with the U.S. Government. Fair enough. He has a friend who will meet him in Ireland and help him get settled again.

As the time drew towards 3:00, our gaze was still locked. He informed me that I would be easy to hypnotize. He told me to count down from ten slowly, staring into his eyes. When I finished, he did the same. I locked into his gaze, and his face seemed to change. I saw age spots where there were none, then his face metamorphosed into what looked like an indigenous Mexican. Then told me to close my eyes. "Some flickering" he said. "What's the flickering?" I asked. He said that it is the eye movements from REM sleep.

"Visitation is over" announced the guard. We stood and hugged, and kissed, and hugged again. He thanked me for the visit and the intimacy. I said I would try to visit again over the Christmas break.

I left with the other visitors. A young black woman guard asked me if he was my husband. "No, just a friend." She raised an eyebrow.