I’m not a particularly angry person, but on the day I go to the Escapades Chicago Rage Room — literally a place where you can de-stress by smashing old electronics into smithereens — it's an unbearable 90 degrees and I’ve spent the afternoon on the receiving end of multiple toddler temper tantrums. So I emerge from the Grand Red Line station fully primed, with a last-minute assist from a trolleyful of drunk 20-somethings belting out Demi Lovato lyrics.
It’s become trendy to pay to demolish stuff (The Bachelorette's Becca Kufrin even visited a rage room in a recent episode), but this River North spot is the first such place in the city. When I arrive, Roosevelt, a huge dude with a bodyguard build, instructs me to choose up to three “weapons.” The sledgehammer is pretty heavy, so I opt for a crowbar, baseball bat, and golf club. Next up: picking a machine to rage against. The $15 it cost to book my 30-minute appointment entitles me to an old stereo or computer (sans monitor). For another $20 I can obliterate a ’90s-era tube TV instead. Done. I want the satisfaction of shattering glass. Finally, before putting on the required leather jacket, gloves, and facemask, I have to select a soundtrack. My music tastes lean more Hamilton than Metallica, so I defer to Roosevelt, who goes with the appropriately ragey metal bands System of a Down and DragonForce.
My first few swings of the crowbar in the debris-filled room, which is about the size of my daughter’s bedroom, feel forced. Roosevelt supervises me through a caged window, and while that makes sense for safety reasons, violently releasing your rage is strangely personal. I dread how he might judge me afterward. “Some ex must have really pissed you off,” I imagine him saying. But with DragonForce blasting, my inhibitions soon evaporate. I crush the glass with my crowbar before taking the bat to a plastic frame and the golf club to a circuit board. The experience is almost meditative, me against the TV. I don’t stop until there is nothing left — glass, plastic, and metal strewn in all directions — and I am dripping in sweat. There is something deeply satisfying, it turns out, about annihilating old trash.
I leave after 19 minutes of raging (most ragers only last 10, Roosevelt tells me), with sore arms and a T-shirt that has been soaked through. Thankfully, Roosevelt makes no “bitter ex” remark and instead says that he figured I got a runner’s high during my smash session. He’s right.
I’m still on that high as I leave the place — right up until I get stuck behind a crowd of slow walkers.
There is a much deeper meaning behind the destruction of junk. To quickly and safely remove garbage without polluting the environment, car removal service uses only the most modern specialized equipment. They provide special containers in which it is very convenient to collect garbage, and the tightly closed lid allows you to completely eliminate the spread of unpleasant “flavors”.