THE TRIGGER EFFECT

My life is about movies. I can close my eyes and remember where I was when I first saw Beat Street (Brooklyn, New York), or Terminator 2 (Orlando, Florida). They bring me back to a time of peace, but others like Back To The Future 2 and Belly transport me back to a time of trauma.

I wanted to see Belly in a bad way. I'm a New Yorker through and through. I represent my city with a Kool Aid smile. Come on, Director X had Nas and DMX showing the gritty street life that I could recall from my heydays in the Lower East Side of Manhattan. That's why when it came on the movie channel the other day, I was smiling as I watched it. Now this is crazy, but a memory crept back to the forefront.

It's early 2000 and I'm at Central State (a Virginia mental institution), doing a thirty-day competency to stand trial evaluation. They housed me in a unit for criminals and those around me were crazy as hell. My young mind couldn't grasp where I was until I was told by staff not to be in the restroom with this six-foot-six maniac that would try to rape me. There were numerous people with mental health issues, and I paid no mind when they showed us movies.

I was able to watch Janet Jackson's Velvet Rope Tour and Species. They transported me out of there, escaping the men who slashed their wrists the correct way, others who wanted to avoid prison bids where they would be assaulted for convictions of sexual assaults.

Once I knew they would show movies, I made my bid to get them to bring in Belly. A young security guard and I became acquainted by my standing out as normal in a madhouse. He and I talked about New York, a place he desired to visit, and music. Our talks ate up hours in his and my day. So, when it came time for me to shoot my shot at getting Belly in, I took it...on a day I'll never forget.

You see, the security guard had a Suicide Watch. Which meant he had to chaperone a teen with the face of a deformed Chucky mask. He went with him to the restroom, when the teen ate, he was there, and even as the teen napped; sitting in a chair outside his room. They (Central State) weren't going to allow the teen or anybody else to harm themselves on their watch. Now mind you, I'm not thinking about any of this, just a movie I desired to see. So, when I approached the security guard, asking him about the movie, he stopped me mid-sentence: "Holler at me later, I'm on Suicide Watch." I nodded, not defeated, still with a semblance of hope, as I turned, meeting the teen's eyes. This nut got up and punched me in the face!

I ate the punch as quickly as he threw it. My rage meter shot skywards, not stopping until it reached Jupiter. I grabbed the teen off his feet, then slammed him on his back. I mounted him, ready to cave his face...sadly, no punch landed. The security forces attacked me. They snatched me up effortlessly as I raged out, screaming and thrashing. It was a wasted effort. The security forces were linebackers who worked as bouncers at night. They took me into a padded room, then placed me on a plastic bunk; securing me in a four-point restraint.

I'm in that room alone for only a second. The on-duty nurse came in with some pills for me to ingest. I told her I'm not taking anything. She said, "OK. I'll be right back." I'm young, and never in my life have been in a mental institution. If I did, I would've calmed down, apologized, and promised on a thousand Bibles that the teen would never need to worry about me. Instead, what happened to me changed my viewpoint on ever entering a mental institution again: Kryptonite. That one word brings on the only weakness Superman has.

Well on Central State, it was the nightmare juice that immobilized a person in a matter of seconds. The nurse returned with a syringe full of that monstrosity and injected my helpless butt with it. The world evaporated around me, taking me somewhere dark, quiet, isolated from everything. I remained that way for nearly twelve hours.

I awoke groggy and freaking out. Why? Another shift was on when I lay on my back, strapped down. It was a female who asked if I was OK. No. I wanted to let loose a barrage of vulgarities, but that syringe sprung into my thoughts, so I politely said, "Look, you never have to worry about me. I swear it." She laughed, then released me.

All of those memories came rushing back as I watched Belly. A movie. Crazy, but it did. I'll never get past this movie without reliving that night in Central State, being introduced to Kryptonite.

Has a movie ever done that to you? If so, I pray it was a good one. One more thing, don't ever get into an altercation on Central State. You have been warned.