Yesterday, we went paint-balling for my husbands birthday. We drove out to the dirty-d (Durham) and showed up at this place situated in the middle of nowhere. Intimidation immediately set in as soon as we saw the port-o-potty. These people are for real.
Quiet came over our group as we walked up to the building to sign in and sign our lives away, passing camouflage covered beasts of men preparing their guns.
“why did I ever, ever purchase this Groupon?” I thought to myself.
We signed our waivers, which basically says, “If something happens, it’s not our fault and don’t come back”.
We put on our masks, which were last cleaned in 1987, and waited for instructions.
IMPORTANT SIDE NOTE: We had the option to purchase Neck Guards for only 3 measly little dollars but we all opted out. This information will make more sense later.
We were grouped up with another group of 13, whose ages spanned from 10-24. And the youngest ones were little girls. Toughies.
We walked through battles that had already begun. Everything was in slow motion as we made the trek deep into the woods to fight the strangers we had nothing against.
The first battle field was littered with barrels and blockades to hide behind. **phew**
We run out, find protection, and begin to fire. The other team had practice. We had none. So our goal was just last as long as we can. Some of the braver ones in our group made their way forward, asking teammate to “cover them” as they ran closer to the middle.
My husband Justin had the notorious “paintball exploding on the mask” hit, and our friend Matt got hit in the knuckle. So they were out.
My sister in law Kelly, with her fierce desire to win, turned to Byrd (friend of my sister) and said, “cover me”, and then took off toward the next barrier. Byrd shot, trying to deter the enemy from hitting her new friend of 1 hour, like a maniac. Kelly made it within feet of the barrier before she was hit.
In the neck.