It was like Halo, fer real
<< Rewind to Saturday — A friend decided to celebrate his 30th birthday with an afternoon of paintball way over on the east side where folks have a decided twang to their conversation. This is pretty close to where I grew up in fact, but I've somehow managed to erase most of the gritty dialect. (It still surfaces from time to time, usually when beer in cans is involved)
I’ve never tried paintball before, and I think I’d do things differently next time. First and foremost, and outdoor arena would be prime. This place had fake turf absolutely covered in the greasy splats of fluorescent goop. It smelled like puberty. Walls were covered with posters for paintball gear which had the flavor of snowboarding graphics bastardized with a NASCAR photoshop filter.
Luckily, the wife of the birthday boy brought antibacterial wipes, which I used often.
I threw in the towel shortly after getting pummeled inside the no-no 10 foot safety zone.