The sledgehammer smashed into the old television, its guts crumbling beneath my blow.
My adrenaline surged. I swung again,
reducing the TV to bits of glass and
plastic, now scattered on the floor.
I had come to the Rage Room, a new
entertainment experience in Hack-
ensack, full of frustration—something
there’s no shortage of in New Jersey,
You can also choose the Frustrated
($140), the Angry ($180), the Furious
($240) or the Raging ($300). The num-
ber of breakables goes up with each
stress began to melt away.
Next, I turned my rage on some old
ceramic plates and mugs. Owner Jeff
Sherfer tossed the dishware in the air
for me to shatter mid-flight with the bat.
Finally, I hefted the sledgehammer for the main event: sending the
television to its doom. In the end, the
room was littered with unrecognizable shards of once-useful objects.
My anger and frustration had been
The Rage Room’s slogan is: “Come
angry, leave happy.” I’m not sure happiness was the emotion I felt while
stuck in traffic on my way home, or that
the experience was therapeutic. But
my visit to the Rage Room certainly
provided some short-term relief.
You might call it a smashing success. —Shelby Vittek
SMASH N G I STRESS
price increase. And it is pricey, yes, but
somebody has to pay for the discarded
items the Rage Room hunts down
for your destructive pleasure. If you
BYOB—bring your own breakables—
the price starts at $60.
Two guests ( 18 and over) are allowed
in the room at a time. You have up to
30 minutes to rage out. My rage moved
swiftly. In a little more than 10 minutes, I ran out of items to obliterate.
To get started, I suited up in protective gear: a white full-body suit, gloves,
and a hard hat with a visor. My first
weapon of choice was a metal baseball
bat. Other options include a crowbar,
mallet and sledgehammer. You can
prepare your own playlist of music for
the session. I opted for the song “Break
Stuff” by Limp Bizkit. It helped.
I took my first swing at a wine bottle,
smashing nothing but air. This embarrassment only added to my anger. On
my next swing, I made contact, but the
bottle just toppled to the floor, unbroken. ( Wine bottles are surprisingly difficult to shatter, I learned.) On my third
swing, I connected with the neck of the
bottle. Glass fragments went flying. My
surrendered to my
blows. Now I feel
a whole lot better.
I took my rage to
the Rage Room
it to bits. Glass