Mash With The Mob | Teen Ink

Mash With The Mob

February 28, 2015
By RyanZollars BRONZE, Port Aransas, Texas
RyanZollars BRONZE, Port Aransas, Texas
2 articles 0 photos 0 comments

?One of the most astounding facets of human nature is the ease with which we lose all sense of rational, moral, and ethical reasoning abilities when placed within specific social context involving mass groupings of people. The ease with which we sacrifice our individual free will to the collective energy of a mob is a terrifying reality. In a trance-like state we become engulfed in activities we never would have participated in had we been in possession of our sense. Mob mentality is a phenomenon that arises suddenly, creates chaos, and then dissipates into a void of terror.
?Every Spring Break the island of Port Aransas fills to the brim with wild tourists looking to have fun and let loose on the beaches of the Texas coast. College students stuff themselves like sardines into cars and head off to the island for a week-long booze fueled vacation from the constant pressures of school. The teenagers who live here, my friends and I included, are overwhelmed by the masses of people who take over our quiet little town. We find ourselves pulled like the tides toward the ocean, where rows and rows of liquor soaked gatherings become increasingly rowdy.
?It’s me and my six best friends, and of course it starts off innocently enough. We walk along the beach gawking at tourists and staring at the thousands of bikini clad college girls. We are seventeen so we think we’re invincible, stealing Jack Daniels and Miller Lite from our parents. We drink Jack and Coke out of styrofoam cups and act like we’re getting away with the crime of the century. The sun starts to get low, as do our beverages, so we decide to look for a party to crash. Ahead in the distance amongst the swarms of confederate flags and lifted trucks, a group of about thirty people were gathered together dancing. They looked young enough to believe that we were old enough to hang out with. Someone shouts “Who wants to do a beer bong!” and my buddy Josh jumped at the chance. In a flash we were engulfed in the crowd, having the time of our lives, not a care in the world.
?As the last rays of sun sank below the dunes we found ourselves dizzily accepted into the growing group of college kids forming around a freshly lit bonfire. In their drunken stupor they easily believed our not-so-smooth lies about being Freshman at Texas State. We were feeling just a little too good, and starting to get off-balance on our feet. Just as I was about to gather up the boys to leave, I felt a hand pulling me into the bed of a maroon pickup truck. I voiced my protest, to which a large man with a chin strap yelled “Shut up you puss”. I was suffocated in between an obese boy with a fro, and two hiccuping sorority girls, with no idea where I was headed or if any of my friends had been coraled into one of the trucks headed in the same general direction as mine. I felt fear and panic rising in my chest.
?My apprehension vanished as we pulled into the driveway of a two story condo filled with what must have been at least a hundred people. There were more people gathered in this one house than in my entire grade. Music pulsed through my ears, and someone lifted a bottle to my lips-- I swallowed without question. We danced and played games, as the night went on things became increasingly wild. People who were strangers three hours ago were now making out on couches and running off together. I had found two of my friends, who told me that the others had been called home by frantic parents. I thought about calling my mom to check in, but quickly realized I would have to walk half a mile at least to get away from the blaring noise of the party.
?It happened so quickly I didn’t even register the drastic shift in momentum. All I could hear was thundering voices. These were no longer the normal shouts of lively kids yelling over the music or over each other. I felt a shove from behind, and someone to my left let out a stream of expletives. I could no longer see in front of me as I was forced forward by an invisible drunken herd of people. That’s when I saw it. Someone had thrown a stereo over the second story balcony, and about eight men were gathered in the middle of the floor around it-- beating the living daylight out of each other. I heard someone behind me yell “Kick his ass” and then out of nowhere a girl shrieked in pain.
?An elbow flew at my face. I moved but it caught my shoulder and threw me into the man behind me. He pushed me forward. Screaming. “What the heck!”. I felt bodies thrashing against me. Things had gone from lively party to full on mosh pit. Someone dove onto the table. I heard glass shatter. Fury. I saw red. There was no clear thought, only instinct. I threw punches. Anyone who had the audacity to shove me on their way out of or into the mob was a target. There was no reason. There was noise, so much noise. I swear I could feel the sound in my bones. One second I was in the crowd of violent bodies, and the next I was beneath it. I hit the ground hard. Felt a foot crunch down on my hand. Then another near my ankle. I let out a wail that was immediately drowned out in the hysteria.
?My arm throbbed as I pulled myself to my knees. I couldn’t see the door. I couldn’t see my friends. All I knew was I had to get out of there before I was trampled to death. Where I had previously been enthralled and animalistically captivated by the crowd, I was now terrified and panicked. The mob of people shifted around me and bottles lay broken on the floor. I made it to my feet, trying to force my way through the crowds. I was thrown back and forth-- shoved as I battled, going in no particular direction, trying to find a way out. Looking back, I imagine that’s what drowning feels like. There was no air to breathe. No where to go.
?Eventually I forced my way out of the crowd, and sat gasping on the sidewalk about ten yards away. Before long, the ominous lights of police cars began flashing in the distance. Shoeless and bruised, I was verging on hysteria. My phone was long gone in the fray. I reacted on pure instinct and took off running. Before long I found myself on a familiar road. My heart started to slow to a normal pace, and I tried to recall through the haze what had occurred that made the night spiral downward so quickly.
?The truth is I had gotten far out of my depth. I felt the pressures of those around me so profoundly that I lost my ability to think rationally. I had done things that night that under any other circumstances I would have condemned entirely. The excitement of the big crowd and their reckless abandon was more intoxicating than anything else. So much unrestricted energy flows through crowds it becomes tangible. It is unlike any experience I have ever encountered. The fear and excitement and danger and uncontainable fury that flows forth from people is a terrifying phenomenon.
?As I look back on that frightful night I am grateful firstly, that I was spared any serious harm and made it home safely, but then I am afraid. Afraid because that night I felt a cord inside me snap and I lost track of my humanity. Something animalistic and predatory was let loose in me. In that moment there was not a single person who felt any thread of connection to other people. There were no boundaries. No moral quandaries or ethical considerations. It was pure primal reaction, and nothing else.
I understand now, how people are trampled to death in crowds. What was previously unfathomable to me was now a harsh personal reality, that when people are totally and utterly consumed by the frantic energy of a mob there is no thought of consequence, there is only action. In Egypt in 2011, a reporter Lara Larson was swept up in a crowd of two hundred men during an excessively violent  riot. She was brutally abused by the mass for about thirty minutes before being rescued. These acts of mob violence are an all too frequent occurrence. The danger of a mob mentality is significant because it is directionless, it operates out of and for chaos exclusively. The phenomenon of a mob mentality is demonstrated time and time again throughout history, from the Salem witch trials to the French Revolution, people have been shown capable of great and irrational destruction. What then, keeps society from devolving into chaos every time a toe gets stepped on in the subway? And what causes that cord to snap inside of us, unleashing the raucous underbelly of human nature?
The answer lies in the anonymity of the individual within the mob. There is no accountability within the mob, the actions of the group do not bring consequence upon the individual. When we are without the masses of confused and panicked people, and instead going about our individual business then what we do and whom we do it to directly affect our lives. In the crowd, there are no rules or restrictions, you are free to react however you please. The anonymity provided by chaos is the knife that severs the cord of rational or ethical thought.


The author's comments:

A story of a crazy spring break and the intesity of the mob. 


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