Painting a Picture

Though this is supposed to make paintball look cool, it's worth noting
it looks like this guy has been hit.

There are random memories floating around in all our heads, tied to friends we no longer see nor hear from. It only takes a small reminder for them to come flooding back.

Nutmeg's Dad sent a short email asking for my thoughts on playing paintball, thanks to a Groupon being offered in Boston. I had many thoughts, all pertaining to a random day in February of my senior year in high school.

I vaguely remember who was there that day. Emerson, Paul, Mark, Chuck ... and a bunch of other people, presumably. I'm not even positive those guys were there. It's been a while.

We went to an indoor paintball center on the southeast side of the Twin Cities. It was February in Minnesota. We play games indoors there.

None of us had any idea what we were doing. We paid to rent paintball guns. We were about to start a kill-em-all game when a bunch of people in camouflage pants showed up. Tip: Never play your first game of paintball against people wearing camouflage pants.

I got taken out early with a shot that hit my leg roughly 6 inches below my crotch. That rattled me.

Of course, we got destroyed playing the Camo Club. It wasn't even close. I can't stand losing; moreover, I can't stand almost getting shot in the crotch with a pellet moving over 100 mph while losing. 

It's safe to say I'm adventurous. I enjoy skiing and going fast in boats and cars. Paintball? No, thank you. I have enough memories.