Me and my lady finally played paintball Saturday thanks to a groupon/eversave/living social (She is on those like stink on shit – I think we will be discount yodeling next week) and there was much to learn. I learned first off that by not having camo and combat boots on, I was in the minority. This place looked like a militia training center, mixed in with ugly teenage boys taking a weird coming of age ritual. At least I wasn’t dressed up in sweatpants and a sleeveless brown leather jacket (no shirt underneath) like this one kid. I surmised he lived in a broken down bus.
The first game started and I realized how woefully inaccurate my gun was as the paintballs drifted off to the left, then straight, then left. At that moment, a ball smashed into my side fat. Well, that was a fun 20 seconds. After walking off, I discovered it never broke, so I took myself out of the game for no reason. This happened three times that day. It worked out though, because some assassin ended up flanking what would’ve been my position and peppering the remnants of my team from 15 feet away. I can still hear the screams…
It got a lot better when I figured out what was going on and proceeded to exploit sniper’s nests (aka hide like a bitch). All was good and my team won three in row. Then we went to “Ambush Alley” and it all fell apart. While advancing, someone skipped one off my shoulder. I looked to check – all good. Then a burning hot pain overcame my neck as Lee Harvey Oswald shot me in the back of the skull. I managed to throw my hands up and get out of the crossfire. Alas, the warm, wetness was not paint, but the rush of blood internally and I had taken myself out for no reason. Then I realized that it was not possible to get shot in the back of the head four minutes into the game and I was the victim of a Benedict Arnold, shooting their own teammate! What traitor had turned their back on our cause, the cause of “no armbands” in our epic struggle against the oppression of “armbands”? There could be only one suspect – the bleach blonde mouthy white trash lady that had sought to ruin our day from minute one…”Et tu, Brute?” She was so loathsome, she gets her own blog tomorrow…fight on, no armbands! Freedom is our cry!