The first thing I saw as we meandered down the bumpy dirt road into Cousin's Coram paintball field, was several guys dressed in full camo gear, spraying themselves down with some kind of aerosol and applying facepaint. When the realization hit that were heading in to join the public field and they may just be there as well - panic set in. "I got a bad feeling about this" I murmur to my bud Jason in my best Han Solo (actually more "Ham Salad" from Hardware Wars...but I digress).
After waiting for 1/2 hour for Cesar and Patti to show up, we made the decision to stay and play. We "manned-up," plopped down our $54 for a single-shot CO2-charged gun, 500 rounds of blue paintballs and a sweaty facemask (BTW, not my sweat). After another $7.50 for a camo jumpsuit, we were ready to stare down death. Or at least a bad welt and maybe a bruise or two.
Now I myself have been guilty from time-to-time of tripping into the nutjob puddle. Back in the day if someone dared compare Windows to the Mac OS (7,8 9, or 10) I'd be all over them like a black turtleneck, but this doesn't compare to the Paintball Elite. The weekend warriors fashioning their own private pigment-based war upon each other is something to behold. While we experienced a genuinely solid group of people just looking to have fun, there were some standouts:
- Ghillie Suit. Yes, head-to-toe plumage. This guy was ready to camp and snipe. No survivors
- The Desert Storm homage. This guy had an M16-styled gun as well as a sidearm. All in desert camo. I think he was like 20. Which would make him like Three when Desert Storm was happening.
- The Ref. This guy took the cake, a nice guy, for sure, but we were informed that if "I was to come up on you, you'd never hear it, " and "My gun beats those things, forget it, It would go through you to the other guy." I assume (hope) he was speaking figuratively.
- The General. Now this guy was actually cool and helpful. The second round, we ended up on his team and he not only gave us the lay of the course (pointing out strategic bunkers and vantage points) but directed his "troops" towards a winning round. I caught a glimpse of him several times and he was standing in the middle of the field, just out of range of the paint, shooting directions: "GUYS UP FRONT...MOVE UP!" - And it worked. Cuz we kicked ass.
We've already planned to do it again (this time on a private field) and I think I'll pick up my own mask for next time. Cesar's already looking for a semi-auto gun and he'll probably buy it shortly. Man, I'm sounding like a nutjob already.