Hero Complex

Last night I lay down to sleep after a long day of rollercoasters, beer and video games. It was Tristan's bachelor party and I, for the first in a very long while, know what it must be like when Alex crashes out after a long day of playing.

Even as my head rested on pillow I could literally still feel the jolts and jerks of our days activities. The right spiraling downward motion of Afterburner, the time-stopping lurch of Drop Zone and the bone shattering tumult of The Hurler rocked my vision like phantom waves after a long day at the beach.

It was a good day, full of thrills and excitement. It was a pleasant evening as well full of beers, shuffleboard (of all things,) and the aforementioned video games. Splashing virtual zombies was nice but the most fun for me was the unique joy that comes from getting a headshot on a galloping giraffe during "Big Buck Safari"

And that all made for a fine Saturday, I was pretty well beat up and worn out. My pelvis still feels slightly detached by the wooden roller coasters but the lift in spirits more than counterbalances the physical damage.

And today, a bonus! While tightening that damned errant nut that always makes the back right wheel of the push mower fall off every 1.5 yard mowings or so I got to placate my hero complex. And yes, I have something of a hero complex.

Perhaps I should preface. One of the redeeming virtues of humanity is that altruism comes naturally and often a sense of well being and purpose follows it. To a degree I suppose that's where the HC comes into play.

Without blowing my own horn I have to mention that this stems almost purely from psychology classes and the statistical apathy that also comes very naturally to most people. It's a bit like the woman who was stabbed to death in broad daylight and no one intervened. I hate stories like that and strangely part of me wants that opportunity to be the person who DOES intervene.

Today I got my chance, well, one chance among the many moments that come and go throughout life. I was dragging the mower out onto the driveway when I noticed a boy walking down the street with a large white pipeish looking thing with a pointy end. It looked a bit like a spear made of PVC pipe and just seeing it brought to mind some of the more dumb and violent chapters from my youth.

I watched boy #1 join up with a friend, we'll call him boy #2 down the road. They were shouting at someone further up the road who I would soon learn was boy #3.

What played out was that boys #1 and 2, each much bigger/older than boy #3 proceeded to chase down the smaller boy and use the big white pipe thingy to hose him down with water. Tears and crying shot out of boy #3 and he fled down the road, coming towards me and past the house, while boys #1 and 2 gave chase on foot.

Enter boy #4, armed with a pipe wrench, that's me. As the boys made it just about even with the driveway I stopped their punk asses in their tracks with a little use of what I call "the Dad voice."

It's not quite screaming but it's pretty close to how state troopers sound after finding a severed head or a bag of cocaine in someone's trunk. Long story short, the chase ended not with the merriment of beating the crap out of boy #3 but with two shattered egos limping back home to mommy.

Bless their hearts. I should have made them mow the lawn for me it was hot as fuck today.