The house we rented had a pool table in the garage. A great place for the guys to hang out and drink some beer. The weather could have been warmer but it was much better than back home. Spring break in Florida is always better than being at home even if the weather isn't perfect. It was getting late and even though we were getting up early to golf, all three of us had thrown caution to the wind in an attempt to flush Ontario from our souls. We reached the point where we had solved most of the world's problems and Shawn and I had taken up an activity we had a number times before. I was standing at the end of the pool table zinging balls length wise and he was standing at the side of the table zinging them cross ways. The laws of physics and chaos demanded the balls periodically collide. There was a satisfying smack each time the balls connected and spun off at odd angles.
Joe stood there and watched. He had never seen this game before. He stood in silence for a time mesmerized by the action. A look came over him like Jack Nicholson in The Shining. You could tell he connected with it. There is something about this activity that appeals to men at a very basic level. It satisfies that juvenile urge for reckless and destructive activity. As he approached the table he had a complete connection with the feeling, a connection fueled by beer. He stepped up with a maniacal look on his face and let out a laugh like The Joker when he was about to spring a trap on Batman. The first ball he zinged was going 4 or 5 times faster than any other ball on the table. The sound of the smack reverberated throughout the garage and out into the street. That sound was the payoff he wanted as soon as he started watching. He redoubled his efforts and started sending pool balls down the table like a man possessed. With each hard snap of his arm he sent pool balls zinging down table to their potential doom. He was totally consumed by the feeling. Both Shawn and I observed that Joe had raised the game play to a whole new level by adding the element of danger, the final component required to achieve total juvenile satisfaction. When you put your hand down to zing a ball you had to be quick as there was lots of action on the table. Any of us could have stopped at any time. I could tell Joe was too far gone and there no chance he was going to stop. Both Shawn and I made comment about Joe's excessive enthusiasm but continued to participate. Pool balls were coming off the table and bouncing down the driveway. We just picked them up and kept going. 40 year old men acting like they're 12, go figure.
As you might imagine it did not end well. I was at the opposite end of the table from Joe and ended up receiving the damage that ended the fun. The end of one of my fingers got nailed first. No resounding smack just the end my finger getting in the way. There was no real injury so if anything it caused an increase in the fervor of the game. The fun ended when he got my knuckle. The spell had been broken.
