Chamblee54

Jails can be confusing. The story began when “P” got to spend a weekend as a guest of the county. He was supposed to get out at 6pm Sunday, and PG was going to take him home.
PG had to hold his hand in front of his face when making the turn onto Camp Circle to keep the sun out. He could not see the sign, and was hoping this was the right road. The word was that “P” would be released from the Bobby Burgess building, a lowrise down the hill from the fortress like big jail. The only place for parking was marked for county employees only, but it was mostly empty. PG found a spot in the corner, and started to read about fixer up houses in backwoods Georgia.
At 6:15, PG decided to look around. He walked to the other side of the Burgess Building, pushed the button the intercom, and got no reply. He did not see “P”, or anyone else. It was time to walk up to the big house and ask some questions.
The sign on the door said Sheriff’s office, and PG decided to look for the proper entrance. He wound up walking all around the building. The Jail is a huge building, towering over Memorial Drive like a fortress. In another life, PG had worked in an architect’s office where this facility was designed. Finally, the 360 degree tour was over, and PG walked in the door he had passed by the first time.
There was a sign, indicating that no cell phones were allowed in the building. PG turned his off, and talked to the guard running the metal detector. Yes, all detainees would be released at the jail, not the Bobby Burgess building. That lady over there can tell you whether your friend is here. PG went back to put his cell phone away, and move his car to the approved parking lot. He had missed the entrance to this lot the first time he came in.
PG drove around the block, and went by the front of the Burgess building. That was of no use, and he went to the parking lot. Going up to the big house from there, with the metal detector letting him in. The next move was standing in line to talk to the information lady. She had never heard of “P”.
This was very confusing. Going home without “P” was not a pleasing option, but it looked more and more likely. Another walk down to the Burgess Building did not yield results. Finally, walking up the hill to the parking lot, there was a skinny man walking down the hill. “Hey”. It was 7:05. By justice system standards, this was not bad.