It all started with a Nalgene

The other day, I was talking to a friend about things that are apparently indestructible. My iPhone came to mind, since I have dropped that thing more times than I would like to admit. But I also brought up a college pastime at UP.
I lived on the 8th floor of Mehling, the all girls dorm, for two years. It was the top floor, also known as the Penthouse. Many people at UP had Nalgene water bottles- they are considered a staple in Portland- and it is said that they are so durable they will not break. Well, being at the very top of a building, having access to a balcony, and having time to kill, we decided to test this theory. We dropped a Nalgene from the top, more like chucked, since we put a little more force into it. It didn't break. We took it to a cement wall and threw it as hard as we could; it still wouldn't break. After many tests, the Nalgene met it's obvious demise: running it over with a car seems to do the trick.

At the very beginning of our freshman year of college, we were put into "home groups" that we would meet with periodically throughout that first year to get acquainted with people from different majors. A few of these people remain close friends of mine today. We would also share a class together. That class was an introduction to literature class with Fr. Sherrer. He was a lovely man, very cheerful and passionate about literature. I liked him right off. He was patient with us unsure freshman and allowed us time to get adjusted to participating in class and what a college classroom is like. About halfway through the semester, we were comfortable and accustomed to his way of teaching. Some of us were a bit more comfortable that others.

One class, we were a bit more rambunctious than most days. It had to be pretty close to the end of the semester because I remember being ready for a break myself. Fr. came in, ready to start the lesson, but some of my classmates hadn't finished their conversation yet. Once they finally took a hint, they stopped talking, but one wanted some water from another's Nalgene. It all happened so fast, but it felt like it was in slow motion.

From across the room, the guy takes his Nalgene and quickly finishes his sip. He sees his friend motion for some, and the guy makes a motion as if to see if he wanted it tossed to him. There is a nod, and the Nalgene goes into flight. We all watched as it flew through the air, clearly going to miss its mark. None of us could catch it, and we watched in horror as it landed to the left of Fr. The room clenched up. This wasn't supposed to happen in college. This kind of behavior should have already separated the men from the boys, and yet here we were, totally tense, waiting to find out our fate.

Fr.'s typically rosy cheeks turned a dark crimson as the blood rushed to his face. He quietly picked up the Nalgene water bottle. With fury, he slammed it down on a desk. The room shook. We all jumped. "THIS does not happen!" he bellowed. And with that, he picked up his briefcase and walked out the door. The Nalgene clattered to the floor.

The next day, Fr. was apologetic for his behavior, which shocked me, but he wanted us to understand what was appropriate in a college class. We hardly moved an inch out of our desk until the end of the semester.

To be honest, the one situation did not change my opinion of Fr. Sherrer, and I walked away from that class sure I wanted to double major in English before my college career was through. But I see this experience as a reminder that we all lose our cool, and whether you are the person in charge or not, you need to man up and apologize. I will admit I have had to do this a couple times, and in turn my angry moments didn't have a long-term affect. As hard as it is to apologize for your reaction to someone else, it is worth it in the long run.

I also know now that my anger will still not break a Nalgene, no matter how furious I may be.