My upper body felt like concrete, a heavy, unmovable mass. Everything froze, tightened. My chest, back, abs. My mouth was open, but I couldn't scream.

I was getting "tased."

I stared straight ahead. And I momentarily wondered what on earth I was doing. I had actually volunteered for this.

You may ask, why? And that's a darn good question.

I took the five-second Taser zap during a

citizens academy

, held on Saturday at the old

in

. The class, one of 13 total classes, covered various aspects of police use of force, including deadly force and defensive tactics. It ended with an overview of Tasers.

Prior to the class, the instructors told participants that those who were interested could be tased. I was down.

I write about crime and law enforcement, so I figured it couldn't hurt (not figuratively, at least) to experience the Taser, a tool police commonly use. I believe there's value in my feeling the weapon to better understand the tools officers use while doing their jobs and the way suspected criminals feel when the probes latch into their skin and the trigger's pulled.

Plus, it makes for a good story, right?

From the beginning of class, I wanted to jump to the Tasers. I even

that I sat, "patiently awaiting the Taser." It was true. But was I eager or anxious? Most likely, I was some odd combination of both.

Come tasing time, we, the students, gathered in the front of a small, carpeted room. I decided to observe a few people before I volunteered – I am a reporter, after all.

I watched as my classmates yelped, growled, grunted and twisted their bodies before gently (we had spotters) falling to the floor.

Finally, it was my turn. My hands were sweaty, and a little shaky, but I kept cool.

The instructor for the day, Deputy Kelly Degman, who's assigned to the training division, asked how long I wanted the shock to last. As another deputy taped each of the Taser's metal probes to my shoulders, Degman explained that this particular probe arrangement sends everyone into "

pose," shoulders curled forward, fists pointed inward toward one another, biceps flexed.

Could I do Hulk pose in front of a group of 30 people? A bead of sweat trickled down my back.

Then, I told Degman to give me one full Taser cycle, which is five seconds. He chuckled. And that made me nervous.

"OK, tell me your name, and date of birth," Degman said.

"Rebeee...," I think is all I got out before Degman let it rip.

Pain, oddly, isn't the right way to describe the sensation. It feels confusing, almost disorienting. I couldn't pinpoint how I felt, and that was annoying. Really, it's more shocking than anything – and yes, sadly, that pun is intended.

My back was arched, but I can't tell you what the rest of my upper body was doing. I think I was in Hulk pose. Maybe?

I instinctively walked forward. I took slow, heavy steps. It felt as if 50-pound weights were strapped to each of my legs. But, as I remember, I continued on, my mouth open, releasing a silent scream.

In many ways, the five seconds felt like five minutes. But immediately after the shock ended, I broke into a fit of laughter, and couldn't stop.

I also smelled like fire.

"You stink," said Sgt. Daniel Cardinal, one of the class instructors. Cardinal proceeded to examine the back of my T-shirt to ensure it wasn't smoking.

Surprisingly, I felt normal. My shoulders relaxed. The place where the probes were attached slightly stung, but that was it. At home, I discovered three burn marks on my shoulders, little eraser- and dime-sized bumps, with pits in the middle.

The burns, which are now scabbing over, sting more today.

I'm here to tell you, the Taser certainly is something you won't soon forget. And you may even have some small scars to help you remember.

–

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