Paintball

Paintball is an amazing form of stress relief. If you’ve ever played it, you know what I’m talking about. You’ve felt the adrenaline rush when your very first game starts and when it finally sinks in that you are actually being shot at. You know the surprise and semi-panic when you get hit for the very first time and realize that yes, it does hurt. And suddenly you go from a big, bad soldier sneaking around shooting at people to a frightened little kid trying to let everyone know that you’re out so they stop shooting you.

For those of you who have never played paintball, you should.

I was invited to a bachelor party by a guy at work that was for his brother, who I’d never met. There were no strippers, no big cakes, and not a whole lot of alcohol. As has been the case with every bachelor party I’ve ever been to, we played paintball.

Ever since my drug overdose back in ’97 when I messed up my heart forever, I’ve always known that my body is rather beaten up for only being 25 years old. That fact was made infinitely clear yesterday on the “battlefield.”

Every little 20 yard sprint from one sheltered position to another would have me gasping for air and trying to get my legs ready again since they already felt like lead. From the time each round began until they ended, my heart was pounding in my chest like a tiny gorilla in a cage, trying to get out, and skipping beats here and there (the result of my OD).

I did pretty good about not getting shot up or hurt too bad, until the very last game where everyone stays in until they’re out of ammo. Up until then I had only taken a few good hits. I had a few in the tender spots on my back, a shoulder hit, one on each hand (which sucked cause I wasn’t wearing gloves), two chest hits, and one right on the inside of my thigh.

For some reason, every time I play I always get hit on the insides of my thighs. I suppose it’s better than getting hit a little closer to center and dead-on in the “man-parts,” but DAMN!!! Inner thighs are fricking tender.

In the last round I actually took my only real head-shot, which mysteriously found its way to the inch an a half of exposed forehead in between my mask and my hat (so yes, I have a bit of a mark there). I also twisted my left ankle when I was running for a bunker and stepped in a hole, which I’m still feeling and will probably be feeling for a while.

Before I had left to go paintballing, I spent part of the morning watching the movie Blackhawk Down. I thought it would help get me in a soldierly sort of mood or something. I’m not sure if it did that though.

In a way, it sort of trivialized what I was about to go do. I was about to go and pretend to play soldier. I was going to shoot guns that fired little gelatin capsules of colored vegetable oil (entirely biodegradable for all the environmentalist whackos). I was going to go and take some hits and get some welts. I was going to come home and be able to talk about it and even get to brag about the hits I took.

There were a few times while we were playing that I somehow tore myself away from the adrenaline and testosterone of the moment and pondered what I was doing. We were in the safety of the borders of the great state of Minnesota, pretending to do what thousands of our countrymen and women have to do for real on a daily basis. We would get hit, utter a few swear words and brag about how much it hurt and how well we took it, then we’d reload and go back out for the next round.

When we were done I figured I’d just go home and spend the night with the dog, or online, or something. I got out of the shower and the phone rang and it was my “boss” from work (the one who invited me to the paintball adventure, who is only my boss one night a week and one weekend a month). He wanted to know if I wanted to go out with them to a bar/club.

I really had nothing better to do, so I accepted.

It was fairly fun, although the band that was playing was REALLY bugging me by about their second song. The musicians weren’t too bad, but the singer just sucked (at least for the songs they were trying to do). They tried doing stuff like Stone Temple Pilots, Offspring, Godsmack, Tool, Papa Roach, Limp Bizkit, and Don Henley.

Try and take all those bands, which sound entirely different from each other, and then make them all sound the same. That’s about what it was like last night.

Anyhow, I think I’m done here.