Institutions are run like prisons. There was room check, morning meal, smoking schedules and the infamous prison card game, Spades.
During my second stint at South Oaks mental institution, when I was 17, I earned a weekend pass (one of the rare ones where my parents actually picked me up the Friday before the Sabbath started). That Sunday, my parents allowed me to go "cruising" to the mall in their brown Diesel station wagon. I did have a driver's license.
I had picked up a couple of friends, and they were acting quite loud in the car. I was not concentrating, and I backed into a fire hydrant. I lied to my parents and told them that I parked the car in the mall parking lot and when I came back to the car, there was damage to the rear end. It must have been a hit and run, I told them.
They believed me and filed an insurance claim with the false information that I gave them. A few days later, I felt guilty and decided to "confess" during one of our group therapy sessions in the institution.
Well, that was a mistake. I had all my privileges pulled and I was not allowed any visitors or leave the grounds for any reason. You would think that I was being punished for lying to my parents and having them file a false report with the insurance company, right?
NOPE. I was punished because I failed to follow the Institution's rules: nobody was allowed to drive a car while on weekend pass, regardless of whether or not you had a valid driver's license or had your parents' permission.
It seemed that the rules of the institution extended outside of the institution. How does that happen?
In addition, I was being punished for breaking a rule that I didn't know even existed -- and neither did my parents since, they gave me permission to drive their car.
Of course, I was encouraged to tell my parents that I lied, and I did.
But what I didn't tell South Oaks OR my parents was what I discovered that day at the Smith Haven mall in Lake Grove.
Backstory: There was a very popular staff member (I'll call him Alex) who worked at South Oaks. He was young, handsome and resembled Michael J. Fox from the 80's TV show Family Ties. He had an exceptional rapport with some of the more thugly males in our unit. I always thought it was odd. But I wrote it off as him being male and close to our age.
Alex was hip, used teenage jargon and hosted the many Narcotics Anonymous and Alcohol Anonymous meetings that we were required to attend (even if we didn't have a problem in any of those areas). He related to the kids who seemed to have problems with drugs or the law and offered a consoling ear and adequate advice.
That day, as my friends and I were leaving the mall, we saw Alex. He pulled up to the curb of the entrance to the mall where my friends and I were leaving through the double doors. Alex was in a red sports car and talking on a car phone. Back in the 80's, the only people who had the luxury of having a car phone were important business executives, lawyers or drug dealers.
Alex seemed nervous as we exchanged our pleasantries. His eyes were darting around and he seemed eager to get into his sporty car and leave.
Suddenly, a group of young men approached Alex's car and as they got closer I saw that one of the boys was Tony from South Oaks. (Apparantly he was also on a weekend pass.) Hmmmm. What was a gang member from Brooklyn doing in the suburbs of Long Island?
Tony greeted Alex with a handshake which was popular amongst teens. They didn't seem surprised to see each other. In fact, it seemed that their meeting was prearranged.
Tony reached in his pocket and handed Alex a wad of money. Alex took the money and shook his head, implying that this is not the appropriate time to do whatever they had arranged and said, "Catch ya later."
Well, this wasn't acceptable for Tony, and he blurted out, "I just want my shit, Alex. Give me my shit."
Now I understood what was going on. Alex, who was clean cut, hip, worked as a staff member at South Oaks Psychiatric hospital and mentored young adults with drug and addiction problems was a MAJOR DRUG DEALER in Long Island, NY.
This was information which I didn't want nor need to know, considering that I had to go back to the institution and face Alex. But all was well.
I learned fast at that institution how to stay quiet. I never told anyone, and Alex and I stayed out of each other's way. He was probably walking on eggshells thinking that I would rat
him out and he'd be fired. But I said nothing.
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