I went to prison last weekend. I've mentioned before that I have a friend who is in prison, convicted of bank robberies. For the last 9 1/2 years Mark has been in a prison in California, but he was recently transferred to a Minnesota prison because his family is here. He's been here since March, but it took a while for me to get on his visitors' list. That involved mailing some paperwork to them and I assume they then did a background check on me - but they still let me visit him! Mark's sister Holly and I have been friends since we were 10, so I asked her to go with me for my initial introduction into the prison system.

When we got to the prison we filled out more paperwork, had our pictures taken, passed through the metal detector and it looked like it was a shoe-in (you'll get that pun if you keep reading). Just as the guard was about to unlock a door to let us into the visitors area, he glanced at our feet and said, "Oh no. Ladies, you can't come in here with those ("those" being our sandals). We have a new policy...no sandals allowed. Read our notice on the counter." The notice was effective July 16 - this was July 22. He gave us directions to a Family Dollar store in town where we could buy some cheap shoes (all the while Holly is steaming because she had worn sandals to this very prison at least three times).

After our shopping spree, that Family Dollar store will never be the same. First of all, there was a very limited selection of shoes - and most of them were sizes 11 and 12. People in Waseca must have gargantuan feet! That started us giggling. I told Holly there were bedroom slippers on the other side of the rack and she said, "Don't even bring big, fuzzy slippers to me."

"But wait," I said, "there are men's slippers over here." Men's corduroy slippers. By this time we were laughing uncontrollably and, by the way, Holly snorts when she laughs, which makes me laugh even more. We both found a pair that "kind of" fit us and we laughed our way to the checkout. So much so that I had to tell another customer that no, we hadn't been drinking. Since I couldn't stop laughing, I thought it best that I get outside as soon as possible. So there I was, all by myself in a parking lot, laughing my head head off.

Have you ever worn corduroy bedroom slippers in 90-degree heat? My feet were sweating like pigs by the time we got back to the prison.

Yes, we were finally allowed in, although the guard said he would get in trouble for letting us in with bedroom slippers. Hey, the new rule says no open-toed shoes; our toes were covered. And yes, we were still kind of giggly at this point. Once inside the visitors room, Holly went to the vending machine and left me by myself. I couldn't stop laughing about our shopping spree and then I tried to get control of myself. "Come on, Mary. You're in a prison, sitting by yourself, laughing out loud. Stop laughing and don't make eye contact."

Did we finally get to visit with Mark? Yes, but I'm out of room so you'll have to read about that some other time.

Anyone out there in the market for a pair of men's size 9, black corduroy slippers? Have I got a deal for you.

You can reach Mary Bruemmer by e-mail at mary. bruemmer@pineriverjournal.com