Culture

A friend had purchased some Groupon coupons and asked me if I wanted to come along.  For fifteen bucks a head we could gain admission and rent equipment to play paintball. These are the same friends I jumped out of plane with.  They also practice martial arts.  This kind of thing is right up their alley.  At age 44, however, running around with a bunch of people hell bent on shooting each other with paint guns has limited appeal to me.  But my friends had never done it, were hankering to give it a try, had an extra Groupon ticket, and they asked me to come along.  Well, ya know, I’ll do just about anything once.  So the three of us hopped in a white 1984 Camaro and drove an hour out into rural Maryland. I hadn’t anticipated that there would be a role playing element to paintball, but it became obvious the minute we arrived.  This wasn’t merely about playing a game.  For most of the people involved this was also about assuming a role.  I’d never seen so many civilians in camouflage this side of deer season.  While participants ranged in age from childhood (10 year olds could play if a guardian signed a waiver) to middle age, they were overwhelmingly male, dressed in costume, and loaded down with props.  One friend said they reminded him of Civil War reenactors.  Meanwhile, we were wearing beat up old clothes that we didn’t worry about getting paint on.  We clearly didn’t fit in.