I wonder why so many people commit crimes.

Prison is no joke. One is confined to a small space, with set times for breakfast, lunch and dinner. No television, no reading, and little, if any, contact with the outside world at all.

Not that I know what prison is like. But I did come pretty darn close.

I recently spent 10 days participating in a research study at Charles River Laboratory in Tacoma.

Many studies at Charles River usually involve constant blood draws and urine samples. Basically a strong endurance for needles and a high comfort for peeing in a cup are a must.

My particular study was different.

It lasted 12 days. The first 10 days, we were free to do whatever we wanted. Granted, we had to stay inside the dungeon - excuse me, clinic.

It wasn't until the last two days of the study that we would take the investigational drug - a pill that would be used to treat hot flashes in menopausal women.

I don't know why I - at 21 years old and several decades before menopause - was allowed into this study.

The doctor did explain it on the first day, but I was spacing out - they made us fast the last 24 hours and I was hungry, what can I say?

Day 11 was when we would become the real lab rats, constantly having our blood and urine collected in tubes and cups for analysis (be nice to your medical assistant - you don't want to insult someone who sticks needles in you for a living).

The study consisted of four other women and me.

One of us was going to be the "alternate," - the one person who would only spend 10 out of the 12 days there and would be spared having to take any drugs at all.

None of us wanted to be the alternate - that meant we would not be getting paid the full $1,880 promised upon completing the study (come on, you don't think I was just doing this for free, do you?)

We had people - "participant advocates" they were called - who were equivalent to airline customer service agents. Never around when you needed them, yet very good at popping up out of nowhere to yell out you for doing something wrong.

We had nothing to do but eat, drink, watch TV, read, and go on the Internet.

Sometimes, the staff would schedule monitored walks for us, so we could maintain our sanity and be reassured that we were not completely locked away from the outside world.

Visiting and cell phone hours were 5:30 to 9:30 p.m. everyday.

It wasn't prison, but sure seemed like it.

For those less fortunate, this could indeed be the life: You were fed three meals a day, had bathroom facilities and a bed to sleep in.

And you were getting paid well for it. Several homeless people do pass through Charles River, using research studies all over the state - sometimes all over the country - as their main source of income.

One man, who was in a separate study, would be returning to the shelter once he was discharged.

From there, he would board a bus to Vegas - not for the obvious reasons, but for yet another research study.

Then there were the people who were not homeless, but certainly not rich.

Someone who left the scene, leaving her with the large repair bill, had damaged my roommate's parked car. She had a 15-year-old son whom she talked about with the sincere love and frustration only mothers can have.

She worked two jobs that were scheduled so that she normally got five hours of sleep, if she was lucky. Making $1,880 in 12 days at Charles River would be more than the same amount of time at her jobs.

On Day 10, I was selected as the alternate and was discharged early, with a modest $1,125 to my name.

It was like an episode of "Survivor." I may have been pulling my hair out over the mind-numbing living conditions, but I wasn't quite ready to go home if it meant less money.

But I can't complain. I may be a typical broke college student, but there are people who are in far more difficult circumstances than me.

I hope my roommate got her car fixed and I hope the homeless man can somehow start a decent life with all his study money.

If there is one thing my experience taught me, it was to be grateful for what I have.

(Judy Vue is a Times/News freelance writer and University of Washington student. She can be reached at hteditor@robinsonnews.com)