Paint It Black

I'm about to leave on a quintessential summer vacation, but first, here's a small post about a big game. Paintball. Have you ever? It's very and truly scary. You sweat and your mask fogs up. All you can hear is your own breath coming in short frantic bursts. Right away or after awhile, it makes no difference—you always get hit. It always hurts. As the game wears on, your greedy hoarding of bullets gives way to reckless shooting everywhere, anywhere. And that, my friends, is paintball.

It was my first time playing, and I went ahead and wore a high-vis purple sweatshirt. Hindsight being 20-20, I could've worn black, but it honestly never occurred to me. I learned many lessons that night—the virtues of camo was just one.

I'm a poor shot. I'm a pacifist. For so many reasons, I'm not cut out for this type of thing. Still, though, it was fun, exhilarating you could even say. A physically demanding activity that leaves you covered in sweat, gooey paint, and bulls-eye purple bruises.

Thanks to Trevor G. for the all the action pics. War journalism is a noble calling after all—he's truly one brave man.