Paintball is not generally viewed as a particularly humorous sport. Sure, we've all had some story that makes us smile or seen something that even makes us laugh a little. Every once in a while, though, you experience something that makes you bust out laughing. In all my years of playing, that has happened to me once.
The way to tell this story requires a good understanding of where I was and what was going on.
The setting is the middle of a horse pasture out in the country and I had agreed to come and host a paintball party for a couple of girls turning 16. I had brought in all the supplies and the plan was for all the kids to play paintball in the horse pasture before they had a dance/party afterward in the barn. While I don't typically go to people's property to run birthday parties, I did agree to this one.
The plan was for me to come to the field and the property owner would have setup a field with bunkers and obstacles, and then I would run the games. When I arrived, I quickly realized that he had never played paintball before as the bunkers were probably forty feet apart at the closest and were spread out over about two acres. With a wide open field, this simply would not work, so I quickly dragged bunkers made of logs, plywood and hay bales and brought them closer together. After some furious dragging, we had a field that, for being assembled in no time, didn't look half bad and was now probably only about 120 feet by 80 feet.
I had brought all the necessary guns, tanks, masks and hoppers to play and the kids had all brought their signed permission slips, so it seemed like we were ready to go after running through the rules. Not quite. You see, because of the planned dance after the paintball games, the party hostess decided that all the kids should wear disposable suits to play paintball. I have no problem with people wearing disposable coveralls, but the fact that they were all bright white did make for some interesting decor on the field. All the suits - I believe they were painters disposable coveralls - were rather large to fit over people, so when we played the games of ten on ten it looked a lot like twenty sheep (or marshmallows) running around the field.
My job during this time was to do three things: make sure the kids were safe, organize the equipment when it was handed over between players between games and to ref the games. This latter requirement consisted a lot of me encouraging the teenagers to move as they would run to a bunker and hide there, waiting for something to happen. I tried all sorts of encouragements and eventually people would move a little, or at least peak around the edge of their cover, and eventually we would get through the game and move onto the next group. While I exaggerate the propensity to hide, there were usually periods of the game where everything would slow down for thirty seconds to a minute until somebody broke the ice and got the game moving again.
It was during one of these lull periods that providence saw fit to tickle my funny bone. The game in question had begun well enough as players rushed to bunkers and fired at the opposing team. A few people were eliminated, but the game slowed down as people got comfortable behind their bunkers. While there were people throughout the field, in the center of the field, behind a bunker made of a four by eight piece of particle board, three teenage girls were hiding. Every little bit one of them would peak their head around the edge, but they were not intent on going anywhere in a hurry. It was at this period that the game slowed down. For probably twenty or thirty seconds no shots were fired though players from both teams were constantly peaking around their bunkers looking for position.
During this period of calm, a gust of wind came up and blew over the particle board bunker. If you can picture it in your mind, imagine a dozen teenagers eagerly waiting for something to shoot at and then, out of the blue, three girls clad in puffy white suits are sitting, completely exposed, in the dead center of the field. When the bunker fell over the three girls, still crouched down, looked at each other for a split second and then began looking around and then, almost in unison, paintball guns from all over the field started firing. To say the least, the girls were lit up from all sides. To compound their plight, I'm pretty sure that several of their teammates got excited by the firing, didn't realize which team they were on, and joined in the firing. I'll never forget watching these three white marshmallows suddenly appear from behind the bunker and then quickly become speckled with yellow spots from all sides.
Despite the unceremonious departure from the field, the girls were in good spirits and understood how funny the situation was. While their egos may have been damaged, the guns were all shooting slow enough that other than a couple of bruises, they were no worse for the wear. From my perspective, though, it left me with the memory of one of the funniest things I have ever seen.
The way to tell this story requires a good understanding of where I was and what was going on.
The setting is the middle of a horse pasture out in the country and I had agreed to come and host a paintball party for a couple of girls turning 16. I had brought in all the supplies and the plan was for all the kids to play paintball in the horse pasture before they had a dance/party afterward in the barn. While I don't typically go to people's property to run birthday parties, I did agree to this one.
The plan was for me to come to the field and the property owner would have setup a field with bunkers and obstacles, and then I would run the games. When I arrived, I quickly realized that he had never played paintball before as the bunkers were probably forty feet apart at the closest and were spread out over about two acres. With a wide open field, this simply would not work, so I quickly dragged bunkers made of logs, plywood and hay bales and brought them closer together. After some furious dragging, we had a field that, for being assembled in no time, didn't look half bad and was now probably only about 120 feet by 80 feet.
I had brought all the necessary guns, tanks, masks and hoppers to play and the kids had all brought their signed permission slips, so it seemed like we were ready to go after running through the rules. Not quite. You see, because of the planned dance after the paintball games, the party hostess decided that all the kids should wear disposable suits to play paintball. I have no problem with people wearing disposable coveralls, but the fact that they were all bright white did make for some interesting decor on the field. All the suits - I believe they were painters disposable coveralls - were rather large to fit over people, so when we played the games of ten on ten it looked a lot like twenty sheep (or marshmallows) running around the field.
My job during this time was to do three things: make sure the kids were safe, organize the equipment when it was handed over between players between games and to ref the games. This latter requirement consisted a lot of me encouraging the teenagers to move as they would run to a bunker and hide there, waiting for something to happen. I tried all sorts of encouragements and eventually people would move a little, or at least peak around the edge of their cover, and eventually we would get through the game and move onto the next group. While I exaggerate the propensity to hide, there were usually periods of the game where everything would slow down for thirty seconds to a minute until somebody broke the ice and got the game moving again.
It was during one of these lull periods that providence saw fit to tickle my funny bone. The game in question had begun well enough as players rushed to bunkers and fired at the opposing team. A few people were eliminated, but the game slowed down as people got comfortable behind their bunkers. While there were people throughout the field, in the center of the field, behind a bunker made of a four by eight piece of particle board, three teenage girls were hiding. Every little bit one of them would peak their head around the edge, but they were not intent on going anywhere in a hurry. It was at this period that the game slowed down. For probably twenty or thirty seconds no shots were fired though players from both teams were constantly peaking around their bunkers looking for position.
During this period of calm, a gust of wind came up and blew over the particle board bunker. If you can picture it in your mind, imagine a dozen teenagers eagerly waiting for something to shoot at and then, out of the blue, three girls clad in puffy white suits are sitting, completely exposed, in the dead center of the field. When the bunker fell over the three girls, still crouched down, looked at each other for a split second and then began looking around and then, almost in unison, paintball guns from all over the field started firing. To say the least, the girls were lit up from all sides. To compound their plight, I'm pretty sure that several of their teammates got excited by the firing, didn't realize which team they were on, and joined in the firing. I'll never forget watching these three white marshmallows suddenly appear from behind the bunker and then quickly become speckled with yellow spots from all sides.
Despite the unceremonious departure from the field, the girls were in good spirits and understood how funny the situation was. While their egos may have been damaged, the guns were all shooting slow enough that other than a couple of bruises, they were no worse for the wear. From my perspective, though, it left me with the memory of one of the funniest things I have ever seen.