One of those times

I tend to do pretty stupid things when I get angry. That's one of the main reasons I work hard to contain my anger. When I was just starting school, I was forever getting into trouble for bouncing blocks off of other children's heads, and suchlike.

This particular incident happened while I was in military school. My parent's enrolled me there about halfway through my freshman year of high school, after a run of failed classes. If you're interested in seeing what my school looked like, rent 'The Omen II'. I found it perversely appropriate that a film about the Anti-Christ was filmed at my school. To anyone considering military school for their child, I recommend taking a good long look at the monkey house of your local zoo. That's pretty much what your baby will experience, but with more weapons and less with the flinging of the feces. Mostly.

Anyway, it was near the end of my second year, and it had been a long one. The school was getting ready for the annual federal inspection, during which actual military fellows walked through the school for a few hours. I suppose they wanted to make sure no students were being beaten, or kept in cages and suchlike. The inspection, which occurred every year, involved a frenzy of cleaning, and added even more pressure to an atmosphere already tense with the need to get this shit over with, already, and get the hell out of school for the year.

My freakout came on a weeknight, a day or two before the inspectors arrived. I don't really remember what the catalyst was, but something, a fellow student tearing apart my carefully ordered locker, another stupid assignment by a section leader who hadn't gotten off his ass all day, a recalcitrant bed sheet, set me off, bigtime.

I'm a lover, not a fighter, and don't like getting hit, so instead of beating the crap out of whoever was responsible, my rage-maddened eye fell onto my bunk. It was a warm night in late spring, and my window was open, and how to dissipate my rage suddenly crystallized. The bunk had to go.

And go it did. I grabbed the mattress, knocked my startled roommate out of the way with it, and stuffed that son-of-a-bitch out the window, letting it fall the story down to the ground.

By the time I had the metal bunk frame about halfway out the window, my roomie's half frightened, half amused yelps had drawn a crowd. As I recall, most of them seemed rather amused, and some were cheering. When the raised window dropped down unexpectedly, one of them rushed past me and held it up, so that I could continue ejecting the frame unimpeded. By this time, I was a little winded, but the frame only needed a little work to send it dropping out of sight. I assume it made some noise when it landed, but everyone was yelling too loudly for me to hear.

My company commander came in. He looked at the open window, at the other babbling students, at the space where a bunk should have been, and then at my red, sweaty face.

"You threw your bed out the window?", he said, not even sounding surprised. I nodded.

"You freaking out?" As he said this, I saw him calculating how crazy this might get if I was truly going nuts. He could have taken me, no doubt, but nobody would have come out unhurt.

"Not any more.", I said, chest still heaving.

"Go get your bed. And don't do that again. Really."

So I went outside and carried the mattress and frame inside and back to my room.

I did feel a lot better.