"Do You Feel Lucky, Punk?"

uh...not so lucky


You've seen them hanging in the party section of almost every department store and card shop. They're especially popular now that there is an Hispanic contingent here in Green Bay. Perhaps making Sponge Bob into one is going a bit far...I'm partial to the donkeys and traditional shapes myself. Of course, I'm talking about pinatas: filled with candy and suspended from an overhanging branch, they make great fun for kids parties...at least until somebody gets whacked with the stick and a mother screams, "You could put an eye out!" Candy eventually spills out, and there's a bigger pileup than you'll ever see on WWE Smackdown!
As I say, I'm all for that kind of fun, except when I get to be the designated pinata and there's no stick but hundreds of paintball projectiles whizzing past my prone body. And, as you can see, I'm not nearly as quick getting out of the way as I used to be (dodging line drives as a Little League pitcher gave me lots of practice: "chuck and duck," that was me).
You would be quite within your rights to ask why in the world I was even in such a situation..."male bonding," would be my reply. Actually, I think it was a carefully crafted plot just to whack me, but I'll probably never know.
It seems that the men's hoops team with whom I work decided it was time at the end of a long semester to do some team bonding. Sitting around the campfire singing "Kumbaya" probably didn't make the cut, and sack races and trust falls were, no doubt, discounted as well...that left paintball. Mind you, I had never done this in my life, my actual gun experience being limited to shooting rabbits with a .22 as a kid and blowing up all sorts of electronic equipment (don't ask) with my buddy Karl during the halcyon days of the Hungry Man lunch and World Team Wiffle Ball.
Naturally, I was a little reluctant to join in when asked, but I do feel a bit of kinship with most of the guys...and I had been stressed out by the "end-of-the-semester-and-I-have-a-project-to-start-can-you-help-me-please" song and dance that had been occurring with more than a few of my academic charges (glad I never did that while in school)...face it: I needed to expend some energy, and my calf still hurt a little bit too much to run. So...it was "Welcome to the Jungle" time with the coaching staff and the guys. It was an interesting afternoon: one from which I may recover any day now. Here are some things that I learned:

1. One has NO peripheral vision in the protective helmets. Seeing ahead is hard enough, and EVERYBODY looks alike with a mask on.
2. One can follow a paint shell from quite a distance, right up to the point where it smashes into the helmet for a close up view.
3. "Kentucky windage" isn't really necessary at 2,000psi.
4. Bruises don't go away all that quickly.
5. Getting a paint projectile in the "man zone" slows the game down some...one person rolls on the ground attempting to get his breath back, and everybody else has to stop because they cannot shoot and laugh at the same time. This might have been to my advantage had I recovered any amount of O2 quickly, but the tears rolling out of my eyes smudged the inside of my helmet goggles, rendering poor vision hopeless.(No taking the helmet off to throw up, either...it's dangerous out there)
6. Bonding experiences really DO bond groups more firmly...even if just for the retelling of the stories of the pinata.
There was NO candy inside.