
Jane
My daughter, Becky, turned 18 a couple months ago, and we surprised her with a paintball party with her girlfriends. When 2 of the girls didn’t show up, my husband and I, being cheap and insane, decided to play. This was our reasoning: how bad could it be? It’s a game that millions of people in America play every year and seem to enjoy! It would be a bonding experience with our daughter, who is leaving for college soon!!
We should have known we were in trouble when they outfitted us in protective gear for our heads and chests and handed us our lethal-looking weapons. Here we are, ready to go:

As soon as we were suited up, they told us about all the things that could go wrong–and all the various ways that we could get hurt–and made us sign a waiver. Then they introduced us to our “enemies”: a team of six very muscular people in camoflage gear and make-up, with their own private paintball guns. I should have backed off then–but, no. I wanted to feel young and energetic in my new thinner state! I wanted to show my daughter what a cool mom I could be!
They led us to the woods, where we were supposed to spread out, hide, and wait for the enemies to come after us. They told us an important rule: if we got hit by someone, we were to hold up our gun to show that we were dead, so that people would stop shooting at us. My heart raced with excitement. I felt the way I used to feel at the beginning of a good game of “Kick the Can.”
That was the last moment of enjoyment for me. I am here to report that I have never done anything quite so terrifying. I have always been anti-war, in a vague, hippyish sort of easy-thinking way. But after being stalked and shot at from point-blank range, I am now against war in a gut-level, fear/hatred/revulsion kind of way. What do you know? It turns out I don’t enjoy crawling and hiding behind trees and under bushes, in fear that someone is going to jump out from behind their own bush and shoot me. And I really don’t like wandering by mistake into a creek that is mostly mud and getting my feet stuck, with the sound of footsteps approaching, so that my heart starts racing, as I’m drenched in sweat, and the only thought I have is: “Get me out of this creek and away from here NOW!” (more…)