This old post brought back memories
In late spring/early summerof 81 none of the other groups had left yet with the exception of Sarasota. The St Pete group was enormous with probably 300 or so kids. It wasn't officially summer yet but in central Florida it can hit 90 just about anytime. And it can get way hotter in a windowless, unairconditioned warehouse. The heat coupled with exercise raps that went on for hours, lack of sleep and lack of food was contributing to the usual misery and insanity.
The main room was like a giant sauna. Suffocating. It was like trying to breathe with a big wet blanket over your face.The higher phases had fallen into a heavy apathy along with much of the lower phases. Days were called in. People were confronted and started over continually. Mostly we struggled to remain as still as possible without falling asleep. I used to fantasize about toothpicks. If I had them I thought, I would put them in my eyes to hold up my eyelids that weighed a ton. Even sitting perfectly still, sweat rolled down our sides and puddled at the back of our bent knees. The walls sweated right along with us. The floor was the only cool place. Sometimes I wondered if people didn't misbehave for the soul purpose of ending up on the cold floor.
At least a third of the group was on the peanut butter and jelly diet. We'd get taken with sweaty hands through the beltloop up to the foodline and there'd be nothing but frozen peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. The bread didn't stay frozen long but the little blob of peanut butter at the center remained belligerantly frozen at the center of it's big bun. Even when thawed, it still tasted frozen.
I wish they'd brought in 60 minutes or 20/20 on one of those days. What a sight! On every row, eyes were rolling as people fell asleep. Fifth phasers were busy poking and prodding people to sit up straight, stay awake, motivate. And all over group kids were carving on themselves. Self mutilation was the order of the day. They carved into their arms, legs even their faces in expression of their misery. Mostly they used their fingernails since very few had access to even a spork. Occassionally someone would find some bit of broken chair and create truly dramatic carvings. Lisa carved the words "highway to hell" up her arm. Legible from anywhere on the girls side. One guy carved a huge circle on his cheek. It was solid & bloody about the size of a half dollar. Another carved streaks in his cheeks that looked like Indian war paint. Everyone had deep dark circles under their eyes. Sunken eyes that appeared even darker against white skin that had not seen the light of day for months. We truly looked like zombies from Dawn of the Dead.
One day just as the staff was changing for the noon rap frantic commotion broke out everywhere. A group of 10 or 12 kids made a break for it all at once. Guys and girls. I don't know how or if they coordinated or if people just seized the opportunity. Three guys ran to the double doors at the back of the group. One of them, the boy with the war paint carvings jumped up and over the heads of the guys standing sentry at the doors. He rolled in the short hallway right up onto his feet and was gone. Two others were tackled. People ran to the three doors that led into the carpet room. One kid even tried to make a break through the door that led into the reception area. Three girls went for the back doube doors. Two made it out but one was nailed in the parking lot. She was dragged back in screaming and crying and bleeding. She disappeared fora few days, I asssume into an intake room. Another guy escaped though I'm not sure how. The staff made a big production of bringing him back in. And one guy was brought in a few weeks later by the sheriff. He was in leg irons and handcuffs.They brought him to the back of the group, told us that he would not work his program and was going to Raeffurt Penitentury.
It was a long miserable summer. And it was days in pretty much up to the holidays.
Faith is the commitment of one's consciousness to beliefs for which one has no sensory evidence or rational proof. A mystic is a man who treats his feelings as tools of cognition. Faith is the equation of feeling with knowledge.
--Ayn Rand, Russian-born author
