Paintball Day III
by Zack Reynolds, Copyright April 9, 2005, all rights reserved. 275 views
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| From 2005-04-09 Paintball |
We have a large audience of friends and relatives.
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| From 2005-04-09 Paintball |
Skylar gets help putting on a bandana.
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| From 2005-04-09 Paintball |
Three players crouch behind a barricade waiting for an attack.
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| From 2005-04-09 Paintball |
The player with the clear plastic shield is the Ambassador and the goal is to get him or her to the bridge before the terrorists can hit the Ambassador.
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| From 2005-04-09 Paintball |
The Ambassador moves forward with an armed guard.
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| From 2005-04-09 Paintball |
Zack demonstrates how he was hit.
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| From 2005-04-09 Paintball |
Lots of good food afterwards.
Let My People Die, by Zack Reynolds
I suppose you might think that the title of this trip report [definition: a story disguised as a work of art in the format of a school report] is slightly melodramatic, but to others, it would seem fitting.
The first game we played was a simple, easy game of “Terrorist.” A box, containing “explosives,” was set on a bridge, and terrorists set to guard it. Then the bomb disarming squad rushed to the scene.
The terrorists spread out upon the bomb crew arriving, so I, along with other members of the bomb squad, took off after a terrorist, who happened to be recognized as Nathaniel. I was chasing Nathaniel down when he got behind some brush and hit me in the leg.
Our bomb squad was successful, however, though we did sustain some casualties (including myself). One of our team was killed by a rigged bomb implanted in the explosive box. Fortunately, it did not set off the explosives prematurely.
So that was the first game. Then we played “President.” The idea was that some sucker was supposed to be the president, get some bodyguards, march down the street, and then some nice guys with paintball guns will decide to break up the parade. I was one of the nice guys.
What was rather disturbing to my sense of justice was the number of bodyguards the president got (about 15 or so, and 6 people on our team). You could have got the impression that he (but in that case, it was a she) was a king. A paranoid queen, however. She had a bullet-deflecting shield.
Our team made me the “point man.” Whether I was a pointed man, or just a man with a point was beyond my comprehension. I always thought “pointless man” was more to the point. So anyway, I was hiding behind a log, shaking with fear, while the queen—I mean president—came stalking along the road, guns bristling. Dewayne Fender had the privilege of leading the parade. When he searched a suspicious house for suspicious people, I remained frozen behind the log, my head protruding up like a Jack-in-the-box does when you can’t fit him back in, but close the lid anyway.
Well, they continued to advance, and pretty soon they had spotted Jack. I mean Zack. Actually, I mean me. I wasn’t visibly armed, so they thought I was a civilian (at least they were supposed to assume I was). Dewayne had the lucky job of walking past me. When he started to pass me (about twenty feet to my right), Hans and I opened fire on him. One of us hit him. Hans claims he did, and I don’t know who did, so I’ll attribute it to Hans.
Then we turned to the crowd of bodyguards and let them have it. They dropped right and left. Hans got shot sometime during this period. Eventually it dropped down to about five or six people in front of me, with me being the only one holding them back. It was cool in a way, but it was also a bit dangerous. Every time I peered out, balls whizzed around my head.
When they were all hunched down after a burst from me, I got up and ran to a tree about twenty feet away. From there I continued to shoot at them. After a bit, I ran back to my log/brush pile, and was trailed by paintballs. They started crawling forward, so I ran back to the tree and began firing again. I believe I hit another person at this time. Then I ran out of balls. As I was making sure I was out of balls, I was hit by three balls.
Once I was out, it was down to four of them versus one on our team. Not really a fight.
I think we broke up for lunch then. After lunch Hans brought out his scenario game. I “was” Duke of Chisum, under King Richard, along with some other people. The other team was under King Wolfgang.
Hans set it up so that each fort was worth so many points, and whichever team had the most points at the end of the game won. Every ten minutes, the dead people would rejuvenate and come in as reinforcements. The entire game was sixty minutes long.
If I were to relate everything that happened during this game, I would run out of breath. Instead, I will relate the major things that occurred (in my limited viewpoint).
At the very beginning of the game, Adam and I (who were, most unfortunately, on different teams) raced for a centralized fort (for those of you who are familiar with the Fender’s setup, it was Christopher Robin’s). We reached opposite sides of the fort at the same time, and glanced at each other from behind our respective corners. Adam ducked back, so I went around the corner and jumped in the door. I got one look around before Adam put his barrel through a hole and shot, and got me in the collarbone from about—oh, say—five feet away.
I was the only one of our team that far up, so Adam got in the fort, followed by Joe. Meanwhile, I had to go out and clean up and get ready to go back in.
At numerous times later in the game, we tried to take the fort back from Adam and Joe, but failed.
Later in the game, I went over towards Woosel’s, and worked my way closer to it from tire pile to tire pile. I actually crawled right in front of the fort to shoot at someone in another fort, because the person in Woosel’s couldn’t try to shoot me without being exposed to my fire. I ended up working my way too far forward, and I got flanked.
After Hans’ scenario game (in which our team lost, by the way), we played some more games. I can’t remember what, though—dash t’all, I always thought forgetfulness was a sign of age.
We did play a game where about five or six people took a fort, and held it against the rest of us. The outcome was somewhat unresolved, however, as we had not determined whether the fort defenders could leave the fort or not. You see, Hans left the fort when I was trying to talk to Joe, and so when I looked back at the fort, he had just shot at me from outside the fort. I was hit, most adroitly, in the shoulder (and which Hans announced with a shout, as if I didn’t know). Then he moved up and shot another guy and Joe.
Eventually, we ate supper. I know some of us were talking about the book, the movie, and the cartoon movie of Alice in Wonderland. Comments like “There’s nothing like hay when you feel faint” were tossed around for a bit. And of course, there’s nothing like paintball to stimulate the imagination.
After supper, somebody mentioned dancing, and in due time, we had an area cleared, and a sound system with a PA set up (translation: CD player and a loud voice). The dance of the moment would swing from the Virginia Reel to swing, and then it would swing back to swing again.
Besides the fact that I generally swing by myself (preferably with a comfortable hammock), and that I was born in South Carolina, I enjoyed myself. Actually, let me clarify myself. I’ve listened to swing music, and swung (generally, however, the music is in my Walkman, and I’m dancing from toe to toe on the gravel while I’m waiting for the cow water to fill up), and I’ve done the Virginia Reel in my sleep. I don’t know, however, whether I sleep dance or dance sleep. It can all be rather confusing, especially when I’m asleep.
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| From 2005-04-09 Paintball |
We practice the Virginia Real after dinner.
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| From 2005-04-09 Paintball |
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| From 2005-04-09 Paintball |
After we finished dancing, we played hide and seek (no, that’s not a new form of dancing—it’s a game: think back to your childhood).
And after hide and seek in the dark, people started leaving. We were staying with the Bluedorns, so we headed off to their place, where some of us began to take showers. Fortunately, I had not got much paint on me, so after a bit of wiping I was pretty much clean, so I went to bed after a bit.
The next morning, after everyone slowly groaned and yawned their way to the world of light, and after some necessary nutritional and energy deficiencies were corrected, Adam and Jason began stringing up some rope in the barn for rappelling. After we all had a turn or two at sliding down the rope, encumbered by a harness and other extraneous equipment, it was time for church, so I just grabbed the rope and slid down.
I got down without much trouble (I’ve done that sort of thing quite a few times), but I did discover that the rope used for rappelling was not particularly suited for hand descending, as it was a little slick. But, hey, all I got was a little rope burn on my arm—nothin’ this ol’ boy ain’t used to.
After church (during which an animated discussion of communion was held), we had lunch, and then some people went out and did some more fancy rope stuff, while others talked. Pretty soon, though, we had to leave, as it would be a nice drive of about seven or eight hours to get back home.
I believe it was in Emma (Jane Austen) that one of the characters said, “Saying goodbye to family does not disturb me, because I know them already. Saying goodbye to someone I’m just getting to know saddens me, because I may never meet them again.”
While I don’t agree entirely with that statement, I always feel somewhat sad when we say goodbye to friends who live far away. The only comfort, really, is to say, “See you next time!”
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