'Beyond Scared Straight'... works for me

Most of the kids who drank, who smoked weed, who had sex at 13 looked scared.

In the what-they're-doing-now montage at the end of "Beyond Scared Straight" - the A&E television series about kids who won't hesitate to kick your butt or pull a knife on their mom or drink the high-octane Bacardi 151 - some of the teenagers had been frightened into following the straight and narrow. Who wouldn't be?

After a day at the jail, they had been screamed at by deputies and belligerent, shirtless prisoners. They had been mocked and teased. They had heard about gang rape. They had cried tough-guy tears. They had had their sexuality questioned. They had seen the inside of the jail cells, painted pink to calm their nerves. They had squatted over a hole in the floor that could, under the wrong circumstances, become their toilet. They were frazzled and scared.

And then there was me. Sitting upright on a comfortable couch, sipping a beer, in air conditioning, watching it all unfold on a large high-definition television.

I had gone to a friend's house for a viewing party, of sorts, to watch this very special episode set in Portsmouth (sometimes erroneously called "Portsmouth County"). The show plays off the popular 1979 documentary "Scared Straight," where troubled children are introduced to prison as a way to turn their lives around.

There is a halfhearted debate about whether the Scared Straight tactic works. I say halfhearted because both sides are entrenched in their views. Plenty of policymakers say such intervention programs aren't successful. They say threats of physical and sexual violence do not change children's behavior. They say the tactic is cruel and shortsighted and lacks compassion.

But plenty of parents, fans of tough love and desperate for help with their own children, are convinced it will make a difference. Lt. Lee Cherry from the Portsmouth Sheriff's Office said that since the episode aired earlier this month, more than 100 people from six states have called the office for help. What was once a monthly program in Portsmouth may now be held more frequently.

Enough with the high-mindedness. Remember, watching a show like "Beyond Scared Straight" is exactly like watching "Cupcake Wars," except viewers aren't hoping for a local brush with fame or to say, "Hey! I know her!" or "Hey! I've tried that!" There is no cachet for Portsmouth residents to appear on this A&E reality program. The viewer's first goal is to recognize no one.

The second is to see - with some kind of sickening curiosity - if the system works, if the Portsmouth jail is the jail of your worst nightmares. The show, aired on a network owned in part by Disney, is a courage test, a measuring stick. Oh, you think you're a tough guy? You think your punk attitude and your smirk could handle the Portsmouth jail?

And the answer? No, sir. I do not.

I was scared just watching the show. Shoulders tensed. Arms grasped the couch cushion. Uncomfortable laughter leaked out.

I was so very, very scared.

I mean, so very, very scared, SIR.

I don't like people touching me, yelling at me, telling me what to do or watching me go to the bathroom. I don't like small places or the color pink. All of those things are apparently bountiful at the Portsmouth jail.

Throughout the show, viewers meet only a few characters they'd want to have dinner with. Or even be in the same room with. Most of the people are a very loud form of terrifying. I was scared of the kids. I was scared of the prisoners. I was scared of the deputies. I was, like one jerk on the show, scared of someone taking my shoes and having no idea how to get them back.

But by the time the credits sped past, the teenagers had a lasting memory, maybe one of turning their lives around or maybe of telling people they had been on TV.

And me?

I was ready to promise not to speed through a yellow light in Portsmouth. I would promise not to jaywalk. I would not call Portsmouth "P-town" because I know some people don't like that.

I climbed into my car, came to a complete stop at each red light, drove exactly the speed limit and made sure I followed every rule very, very, carefully.

I'm no tough guy, and I know it.

Mike Gruss, (757) 446-2277, mike.gruss@pilotonline.com, PilotOnline.com/gruss