My team had voted for the one event that terrified me to my very core.......Paintball. I do not have what you call aim or coordination, and I was about to have paint filled balls moving at a great speed flying towards me. Maybe even towards my head. Why was this happening to me? I had to brave. I was not going to be the one wimpy girl who was too scared to play. It was time to put on my big girl panties. And in this case I decided what would make me feel tougher was to dress in camouflage from head to toe.
With each day that got closer I could feel myself getting more and more nervous. And then finally the big day had arrived. When we arrived at the actual paint ball center, more terror. The paintball fields were housed in a sketchy warehouse in a sketchy area. I had to lose the terror. I had to get tough; so I donned my camo and approached the meeting area. In my head I walked in slow motion with my chest puffed out gripping my gun like a bad ass, the song, "Real Big" was playing in my head (You know that song, "I'm rich bitch, I'm a real Big Tymer.") Of course this was all in my head, but I was trying to get myself pumped up to the max.
The paintball instructor had us gathered around and began to explain the safety tips and the rules. I tried to pay attention, but I was too busy chanting manly mantras in my head. "You got this shit." "Don't be a pussy." "Gonna Take em' Down!" "I'm not scared of no paint." And then it happened. Another group began a game. All I heard was the sound of death spliced with terror. POW, POW, POW, POP POP, POW! Sounded like someone was firing off a machine gun! Whatever balls I had developed while chanting my manly mantras were gone. The little wimpy girl in me had decided to come out and play. I tried to stop them, but the tears started coming. They were trying to stream down my face. I think only 1 person saw me, I quickly gave the "don't say a word" glare. I started breathing slowly. Went to my happy place. Thought of puppies. Anything to make the tears stop before more people noticed.
I was able to stop the tears, but I was not able to stop the nausea and my racing heart. It wasn't the thought of actually being hit with a paintball that gave me the feeling of sheer terror. It was knowing that I was going to be hunted. People were trying to hunt and attack me. Strategic people that had done this before. I will not lie. Laser tag terrifies me a little bit to because of this very reason.
We went into the holding area and were about to go onto the field. My boss asked me how I was feeling. I responded very seriously with, "I think that I may need to throw up." He responded with, "You don't have to do this." But I was on a mission. We move on to the field. The field is also terrifying. There are some barricades littered throughout the field. Each team has to stay on their own side. Everyone had to start behind this gianormous concrete cylinder. When the whistle was blown you could move forward or run to other barricades. The only problem was, you had to run out into the wide open to make it to the next barricade. "Um. No Thank You!"
First game, I cowered behind the concrete cylinder. I tried to pretend I was doing things, but who was I kidding. I looked like a terrified puppy that was likely to piddle themselves at any second. Between games I could literally feel my heart about to beat out of my chest. People knowing that I had been terrified asked me how I was doing. All I could do was give a blank stare and mumble random words while having people feel my heartbeat.
Next game was even scarier. They put us on the field where all the barricades looked like inflatable gymnastic toys....are you fucking kidding me. This time I almost tried to move around. A nano-second later, BAM, shot in the hand and the shoulder. The fear suddenly vanished. All I needed was to be hit by an actual paintball. I ran out off the field and apparently with excitement announced to my boss, "BAM, I got shot in the hand." I said it in a proud way like I had just made my first touchdown as a football player. My shoulder wound even left a small welt.
This game had just become a whole lot more fun. I was trying to run to barricades (usually very unsuccessfully). I was getting shot in the head, the heart, maybe even the uterus. I didn't want to leave. Not even for the happy hour afterwards. So the lesson learned here is you really should try things that you and no one else would ever think to see you do. That's how I learned to enjoy paintball. It may even be what got me to Denver, Co in the first place.
THE END!
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