Tuesday, September 14, 2004


Back in high school and college, I used to play on a paintball team. For those unfamiliar with it, it's like wargames but with gas powered guns that shot small balls of paint. When you got hit by one of these things, it feels like someone pulling back a giant rubberband and releasing it on whatever body part gets hit. Yeah....ouch.
During one of our training sessions, my entire squad was wiped out with me being the only one left. My team had already taken out 5 of their players, but they still had 5 players left. I hid in some tall grass and saw the rest of the other team move in a lateral line across the field. So, I waited until the last guy moved across my line of fire, took aim at his chest and squeezed off 6 shots in one second. Poor was in the middle of winter so the pressure in my gun dropped, I watched all 6 chest shots curve downwards and hit him right where no man deserves to get hit. All you could hear was "AAAAHHHHHHHHH!" To top that off, all of the paintballs in my loader had hardened from the cold.