We Tried Venting Some Fury at Springfield's Rage Room

Rage rooms offer the perfect escape for those with stressful lives—or those just having a bad day—providing a safe outlet to just let it all out, a space to smash just about anything without worrying about the mess or consequences. However, for me, outwardly expressing my feelings is out of my comfort zone. While I experience stress and anxiety like anyone else, I tend to bottle things up, and I actually prefer it that way. But when the 417 editorial team visited The Rage Room (1850 S. Glenstone Ave., Springfield), it sounded too good to pass up.

The Rage Room is located in the Plaza shopping center and offers packages for couples or individuals, groups of three to four and groups of five to 16. Their packages range from $120–600, depending on the group size, and last between 20 minutes and an hour and 15 minutes. The Rage Room allows you to bring your own items to smash, although all items must be approved beforehand and could result in additional fees and charges.

Let me set the scene: Our group included Editorial Director Katie Pollock Estes, Managing Editor and Business Editor Dori Grinder, Digital Editor Jamie Thomas and me. To put it simply, we’re not typically a rage-filled bunch, so this was venturing into unfamiliar territory. However, we were ready to embrace something new.

The outfit requirements were minimal, just closed-toed shoes and pants—The Rage Room provides everything else. Upon arrival, we filled out waivers and were taken to the back to get suited up. We joked about how the suits resembled hazmat gear or what the characters wore in Ghostbusters. The final touches included a full-face shield and thick gloves. Next, we selected our weapons of choice. Katie quickly grabbed a bat, Dori chose a sledgehammer (although she seriously considered a crowbar), Jamie went for a bat and I opted for a golf club. The team at The Rage Room gave us an overview of the space and some “what not to do” tips, mainly advising us to avoid throwing things directly at the walls or each other (noted!).

When we walked into the windowless, half-cement room, we were met with dozens of glass bottles, an old car door—which you could throw things at—a large tire, TVs and a few other miscellaneous glass items. There were many bottles balancing on top of each other, creating glass towers throughout the room just asking to be struck.

We started off slow, taking turns and watching each other’s smashing techniques. We balanced empty alcohol bottles on the big tire and hit them with a bat, and we tossed beer bottles into the air like baseballs and whacked them mid-flight. I enjoyed teeing up the bottles like golf balls, practicing my swing with a gratifying POP that followed each hit.

As it turns out, the edit team may have had some pent-up rage that needed to be released after all. Dori was so rage-y that she broke my golf club! After about 30 minutes of raging and dozens of shattered items, The Rage Room team turned off the music and knocked on our door to let us know our session had come to an end. We removed our gear and brushed the straggling glass from our shoes and were on our way out, feeling a little lighter than when we first arrived.