In Which I Brag a Little Bit

Today was my first day at paintball camp. It was just about as much fun as I've ever had doing anything. I mean, seriously, you get to run around and shoot people and then everyone high-fives and you do it all again. I'm both what you'd call a noob, and an old guy. Plus I'm giant and not super fast. Non-ideal for paintball, where the smaller you are, the better.

We learned stuff all morning. I concentrated on learning how best to hide my enormous mass behind things while shooting at little teeny people. I also learned how to get my marker to shoot a legal speed. It was shooting 400+ feet per second when I got there, which is basically a deathray, and hence frowned upon.

So after learning things, we had lunch, and then we scrimmaged three-on-three. We counted off, and by "counting off" I mean that the guy running the camp counted off, and I ended up with two of the youngest they: both great they, but still a little scared of getting shot. The younger one, I'll call him "Ike," is maybe 10 or 11, probably weighs as much as one of my legs, and has both the unsettling propensity and remarkable ability to dive over things onto his head without seeming to sustain any damage. Our other teammate, we'll call him "Archibald," is a little older, 11 or 12, and maybe less afraid of getting shot, but he's got this crazy gun, which I think is made for playing army in the woods. In the 90s. It's really big and shiny and it doesn't shoot very fast. It's got a flash suppressor. Handy on an airgun. Archibald forgot to take the safety off during one game and it didn't shoot at all.

So it's time for our first game, and we draw the trio that has older teenagers who play on a real team with names on their jerseys and $1200 guns. Also good they, but kinda intimidating. Right before we go onto the field, Ike's totally wide-eyed and says that he plays against one of the older they all the time and the older him "always murders" him. I say something inspiring and leaderful like, "Well, OK, let's shoot him first." Ike and Archibald are visibly vibrating, but Ike says something to sack up like "If we win this, we are the greatest paintball team in history." Not true, but hey.

The ref yells "3-2-1 Go! Go! Go!" and we're off. Ike takes off and dives on his head into the snake bunker. Archie heads for the dorito bunkers, giant chrome gun blinding all who look his way. I just run up the middle looking for someone to blast and something big to hide behind. Wouldn't you know it, the sporty they must have thought that we were going to cower in the back, because they were running with reckless abandon towards us. So I shot them. I think I actually only got two of them, and Ike got the third from his sneaky spot in the snake, but I was so intent on shooting people that I hosed everyone until they put their guns over their heads.

The best part of all of this was w

And I get to do this 4 more days.