Put Your Face in the Cheetos and Say You're Sorry

Poppop! Ziz-wing!

Sorry for the hiatus, but as I've said before, tis a busy busy place this Caswell is! Now for my update:

It is common knowledge that mankind will always find a way to amuse itself regardless of the consequences of said amusement. It is also fairly obvious that some survival instinct lies dormant inside all of us and occasionally, when it can surface, it gives us a feeling of being close to completeness. One of the ways we reach that objective of satisfying our need for competitive survival, without all the nastiness of death and suffering, is paint ball.

For years, as an adolescent in middle school, all I did was hear about my friends play the game of painting balls. Now, sadly, I stand (or actually sit) before you, a nineteen year old first time paint ball veteran. Jacob Jackson got a surprisingly large group of male staffers together to play this past Saturday. I'll take you through the entire process for me, step by step.

1. Get paint ball gun.
Now, call me crazy, but the idea of shooting hard balls at one another at a speed of around 275 mph seems like something that one might not enjoy after one good try. Because of this I didn't want to up and buy an $80 gun from Wal*Mart. Instead I had to find one to borrow, the man himself, Jeffery Shearin, hooked me up with his brass eagle which is, as it turns out, horribly inaccurately named as "The Eradicator." You're more likely to eradicate yourself with it's accuracy, but I'll attribute it to my poor marksman skills and perhaps too low of a velocity for now. After all, one game is hardly a fair chance for the gun to prove it's worth. THANKS MAN!

2. Get geared up.
Who knew the most expensive part would be the stuff that blows up and disintegrates into nothingness? We all had to get paint balls and from the sound of things I was going to need a lot. I stocked up on 1200 at a cost of around $30 before heading out. I used about 300 during the two games we played Saturday, mostly due to my cowardice in the first game, but oh well. At least I have plenty more.
Of course no paint ball game would be attemptable without proper head protection and clothing. For head gear I got a black full coverage mask from wally world. SWEET looking mask, but being the smart one I am I decided to give it a custom paint job with the cheapest spray paints available. After 5+ hours of work I discovered that my paint didn't bond to the plastic of the mask as it started pealing off. Fortunately I was able to get some clear coat and salvage what was left. Now I've shamelessly told everyone I was going for the "battle damaged" look. They don't believe me but they pretend to make me feel better.
For gear I wore Nic's thin sweat pants with camo duct tape over all the orange patches.
...what!?!?...

3. Get air.
For those of you that don't know, a paint ball marker (gun) requires compressed CO2 in a tank to eject the balls. The only place around here that sells said CO2 happens to bear striking resemblance to what my vision of "mini hell" would be. Jenny's Pawn in Shalotte is full of more death inducing weaponry than some third world middle eastern countries. Add to that the fact the Jenny, what with her emotionless face, seemed to be capable of pulling any one of them out and shooting it for no reason, and you got yourself one danged creepy place of business. I did a little scoot in and out of there.

4. Location. Location. Location.
Where do you play paint ball in nowheresville NC? Apparently in the woods next to some fairly populated apartment complex. We parked next to them and trudged off down a dirt road, past a manmade pond, and to a mud filled, overgrown mess of land. I hope Mr. Man in boat didn't get hit by one of the zillion balls that got shot out there before and in-between games due to the complete lack of attention span that the mens staff have. Aside from being very itchy and not having permission to play there, it was a nice place. Plenty of cover for me to shiver in fear behind.

So there you have it. Now how did it go? Let's just say that I found myself chanting "These are your good friends from Caswell, they are in no way VietnaGerman soldiers taking aim at your head." You'd be surprised how much paint ball guns sound like real gunfire from a distance. I didn't fire a shot for 45 minutes because I just kept moving from bush to bush. Then I fired a few, hit Kyle in the hand... the ball DIDN'T explode...and then panicked as my team leader got popped behind me (with an "OWWWWWWWWI'm out!") just before Josh Sullins pegged me from the side. You know how they tell you it doesn't hurt so bad?...HA! Well, it really doesn't hurt much at all, but it SURE leaves a nasty bruise. Especially when you're hit with Josh Nelson's tournament grade gun that he accidentally turned all the way up because he thought he was turning it all the way down. Yikes! 300+ mph=Black and Blue.

I also got hit in the junk in the second game...figures...

Above it all, however, it was a FANTASTIC experience and something I hope to do many times more in the future. Stay tuned for striking images of me in full Camo, (never thought you'd see that did ya kido?)

"In other news, Iraq was liberated by a flock of VietnaGermans at around 4:30 Monday afternoon..."