Okay.

Wrestling.

"Something funny happened today at work--"

Oh damn.

I was about ready to go home - it had been a long day, and I was pretty tired from another Monday night and Tuesday morning spent more with RAW and Nitro than with sleep.

The last thing I had to do for the day was take a case of backup tapes up to the front desk for the off-site storage company to pick up and deliver to their vault. I deal with tapes every Tuesday, and save it for the end of the day when my brain doesn't feel like working, but can handle some monotony.

Anyway, I was at the front desk stashing the crate - at the same time the receptionist was getting off the phone and addressing a visitor - a rough looking guy in jeans, T-shirt with sleeves too short, lighter than me yet somehow with a larger gut (now, that's no mean feat, pulling off BOTH those looks).

"I'm sorry, sir, they appear to have left. They usually leave right around 5."

"God damn...I left them two messages all day to wait for me! Grumble mutter grumble grumble..."

Well, he wasn't REALLY saying that, but it was more of a general "grumble mutter" tone he was taking - that kind of thing where you're really talking to yourself, but you don't mind too much if other people happen to be listening to you...not that the swearing helps any, but it definitely conveys a MOOD. You could tell he seemed to live with a lot of stress, even though probably a lot of it just might have been imagined or self-inflicted. Trouble letting things go...well, you know the type.

He turned to leave, power walked to our front door, pushed it *very* hard, let it swing...

And the next thing I saw was the front door of our global headquarters shattering into thousands of pieces...and letting gravity do the rest. Really, it was like a rainfall...only, like a rainfall of jellybeans. Big chunks of Plexiglas piled up on the sidewalk outside the door. It genuinely looked quite spectacular.

But the kicker was the guy NEVER BROKE STRIDE. He just kept walking out to his car as if NOTHING had happened, as if doors just *broke* around him *all the time* or something

After a brief moment of shock (Damn! Did that REALLY just happen?), I shouted out "gimmeapenQUICK!" grabbed a piece of paper and sprinted out to just down his plate number.

He ended up turning around and coming back after loading up his car, at least.

About this time the Crazy Old Man security guard finally made it on scene (right on time) and made us all feel secure. "Hey, I think that guy coulda taken you if he wanted to!" Aw, geez, THAT'S the way to commend my quick thinking and civic duty on behalf of the company. This was the same guy who once remarked to me "Hey, you like full figured women? See her over there? She's not FAT or nothin'...but she's got that cushion for the pushin'!" and I'm thinking "first of all, I don't know you well enough for you to make comments like that to me (and oh, by the way, I don't WANT to know you that well) and second of all...'cushion for the pushin'?' Do people ACTUALLY talk like that?" So I did what I normally do when confronted with this guy - I set my face to "marvel" and slowly backed away. Anyway, he helpfully stood around while the police were summoned.

I mean, that door probably cost six thousand dollars EASY. Tall, thick, CUSTOM glass...I mean, you wouldn't imagine this kind of thing to break that easily, but all it took was one hard shove - this thing didn't get stopped by the barrier, it CRASHED into it.

The cops eventually came by to write up a report, and we went over to check the security tape. "Yeah, I'm the guy with the tie!" I cheerfully offered. This was high humour for the police. Not only was I the only guy in the picture, making the comment totally unnecessary, but the OBVIOUS thing that would have been said in that situation by somebody unaware of what he was saying was "Yeah, I'm the guy with the long hair!" Since I didn't make THAT comment, the cop got it. I admire a cop who appreciates a good line.

Obviously, the guy had no criminal intent, but he DID let his anger boost his strength - and, apparently, his reason. One would think that it would be instictual - the concept that "you shouldn't slam a glass door."

The punchline is he's apparently an unsatisifed customer. Well, SURE. Say, if he's not going to pay his bills, do we really expect him to foot the bill to replace this door on top of that?

I ended up sticking around an extra hour with all this excitement, so the end result for ME was I didn't get to go to sleep until even later...and that's what's REALLY important, right?

Anyway.

So what's the lesson learned from all this?

Don't EVER let your anger take over with that kind of intensity in that brief a period of time, lest you find yourself paying for it - much longer after the anger should have subsided?

Always think quickly and get the plate number, just in case, but don't get your ass kicked while you're doing it?

In general, security guards are wacky old dudes, but cops are cool with the humour?

Perhaps all of these.

Perhaps none.

To me, the one thing that I keep going back to as I ponder what transpired today - the overpowering image and reality that will probably stick with me long after I've forgotten about most of the nuances of the experience, is this:

Seeing that giant pane of Plexiglas shatter looked REALLY cool.

.

And that, my friends, is the SOLE reason why the biggest pop Sunday, at Backlash, will go to Stone Cold Steve Austin.

CRZ