This week Rafael Escamilla, a physical therapist from California was arrested for playing with himself on an airplane while sitting next to a high school cheerleader. Long story short, he claimed that he was merely scratching an itch on his junk because he had spilled hot sauce on it earlier that day. I’ve used a lot of hot sauce in my lifetime and I’ve spilled it on a shirt or two, but never on my junk. Mostly because “Never use hot sauce while you’re naked” is a rule I’ve always lived by. Regardless, Mr. Escamilla has been in lockup for a few days now and we used some of our HT connections on the inside to find a few pages of his prison diary. The transcription is as follows:
I haven’t written in one of these since I was in middle school. If I remember correctly, I stopped journaling right around the time I started masturbating. Kind of funny how the very thing that made me stop journaling is now the reason I’m journaling again. I mean, allegedly… Man, this week started out to be so awesome. I was super bummed because my flight was delayed, then I was super stoked because I ended up sitting next to that super hot girl. Shitty time to get an itch that just so happened to take about seven minutes to scratch. But whatever… My roommate seems nice enough, but I’m going to try and play it cool. He found out what I got locked up for and he was sympathetic. He said “Yeah, I get real bad itches like that too. ‘Round the same time every night, just before bed. And if I look at you while I’m scratchin’ that itch, don’t break eye contact or else I’ll have to keep scratchin’…” We totally get each other! Ok, good night for now.
Wow, what a difference a day makes in here. My roommate, though he sympathized with me earlier, didn’t stick up for me at all in the cafeteria when all the other inmates poured hot sauce in my lap. I guess it’s just an initiation thing. And I’m kind of thinking everyone here is going to be cool with me. It’s just a jock mentality thing, like they only give you shit if they actually like you. A few of the other guys I’ve seen around the yard keep asking me to “scratch their itch” and then they blow kisses at me, but I’m not sure what they’re getting at. I haven’t watched enough “Oz” I guess, LOL. Tomorrow my lawyer comes to visit, which is going to be awesome. Finally, we can clear my good name, some how prove, scientifically or something, that I actually did spill hot sauce on my penis and it actually does itch really bad when you do something like that.
Hello diary. Such mixed emotions. Got good news and bad news from ye olde barrister. Turns out we’d have a really hard time proving I was scratching an itch and not yankin’ it, so he said if I just confess my sentence will be much lighter. So I guess this is my confession. I jerked off on an airplane. BFD… The shitty thing is I feel so stupid that I tried to use the hot sauce excuse. It was totally one of those things where someone asks you something and you can’t think of a good lie so your brain just causes you to spit something stupid out. The TSA guy was like “Why was your hand moving around on your crotch?” and I froze for a second, then just yelled “Hot sauce penis!” then immediately cursed myself for doing so. It was too late though. I’m so stupid. How the hell does anyone get hot sauce on their penis? They don’t. That’s how. I should’ve just said I was adjusting, but they probably wouldn’t have bought that. I was adjusting for way too long. Well, whatevs. I’ll be counting the days until I get to see the light again.
Pretty revealing, if you ask me. Kind of endearing to see such a change of heart. Hopefully this guy gets himself right, and hopefully he never sits next to me on a plane when he’s finally walking free.