This weekend, we did Thanksgiving up in Farmington with Penny’s family. Well, on Thursday and Saturday mornings, the men-folk (well those 16+) ran out into the desert to shoot each other with paintballs. I was headaching on Thurs, so didn’t get a chance to play. But I was fine for the carnage on Saturday.
We played some pretty standard games. Half of the group runs off into the bushes to hide and the other half attacks. Then you switch sides. Get hit with a shot that breaks, you’re out.
The terrain was brutal (rocky desert hills around a sandy wash). My legs and back are still killing me from the experience. It’s actually hurting to sit upright in my chair here. Feh. I’m not quite 30 yet and already I’m getting too old for this sort of thing. 😛
I came out of the game mostly unscathed. Sure, I got hit a few times. But the only time that left a mark was when some loser (who shall remain nameless) cheated.
[flashback special effects go here]
It was the third game. We were on the offensive. The other team had been given plenty of time to get into position on their half of the field. We let them know that we were on our way.
To paraphrase Penny’s uncle Rick as we walked over to the wash from where we were parked: “You know… Jimmy and [whatsisface] were pretty mad about how we beat them last time. They’re probably gonna be hiding pretty close to the entrance. Hey, Ammon? Come stand in front of me :P”
At this moment, he who shall remain nameless (because I never bothered to catch his name) popped up from a bush behind us and opened fire. The distance was probably 20 feet from him to the furthest guy in our group. I was in the back of the group, so I was closest to him when the ambush happened – probably more like 10-12 feet away.
He started with the far side and worked his way back to me. About the time he was shooting the third guy on my team of five, I had realized what was happening and had turned and raised my gun.
I fired two shots. The first one missed. The second one glanced off of the side of his mask. By then, he was ending his first sweep and hit me. In the chest, just under my left arm. I don’t think I’ve ever been hit that hard with a paintball before (enter my suspicions of heightened pressure settings…).
Anyhow, the shot hit me so hard, I actually staggered backwards, lost my footing, and landed on my back. I’m pretty sure I made appropriate noises of groaning and injury. I don’t remember what happened after that, I was too busy running a systems check to see where all he’d hit me and was kind of surprised to find that it’d only been once.
By the time the dust settled, he’d run off and we were regrouping to figure out what to do next. We decided to play the round as normal.
I only got one kill that round. It was the camper. I shot him in the face at about 15 yards.
[end flashback, fade to present]
So… karma, yeah. We won that round, and the one after it.
In retrospect, I realized something interesting about myself. Every hit I scored that day (there were not very many) was a head shot. Shrug.