Maybe not as strange as some of the stories here but it's something I'll always remember. Sorry if this is a little wordy. It's a slow day at work and the muse has taken me.
Back in fall 2002 I went to my first (and so far only) big game out somewhere in Indiana. Being an 11 year old kid at the time, my team had me hide in a seemingly useless position near our starting point close to a trail and left me there alone. I was positioned on a decently steep hillside behind some dead tree branches looking at the trail roughly 20 or so yards from it. Of course this being probably my second or third outing, my heart is pounding in my chest just waiting for the enemy to walk by. I waited on edge for what seemed like hours till suddenly an enemy patrol of about 4 or 5 guys appeared and was headed my way. This was it.
I hunkered down, certain they would see me immediately. By now I was completely amped up and knew for sure I was going to get shot. To my surprise though, they didn't spot me. They kept on walking. I waited till they had just walked by me, then stood up, brought my trusty 98 Custom to bear, and pulled the trigger. To my horror, it gun just sputtered and a ball lazily rolled out of the barrel. I was out of CO2.
I stood there for a moment frozen in place by shock. Once I snapped out of it, I recocked the gun to try again but had the same result. Tried once more but this time the gun didn't even sputter. It just made a funny plopping sound. Meanwhile, the patrol was still walking away from me completely oblivious to my presence. I had to stop them. I had one thing left I could try.
Each player was given one of those Tippmann grenades and mine was in my pocket. I grabbed it, pulled the pin, and threw it as hard as I could towards the patrol. My aim was a little off but I hit the hillside to the right of them but it was rolling right towards them. Yes! I thought I had them but as anyone who has used one of those things knows, nothing happend. It just impotently rolled through the autumn leaves and came to a rest near the rear member of the patrol.
A whole new wave of horror came over me. The last guy had definitely seen the dud grenade. Any second now they'd all turn and light me up like the 4th of July. I braced for impact but it never came. The last guy simply glanced at the dud then kept on walking and didn't say anything to his team mates. I just stood there stunned and watched as the patrol dissapeared around the bend.
I have no idea how they didn't spot me and I wonder about it to this day. Surely they should have heard my 98 sputtering behind them and the last guy definitely saw the grenade. Was it my spiffy chocolate chip cammo jacket blending in peffectly with the fall foliage? Was it just a case of tunnel vision? I don't know and perhaps never will. The irony of all this is that if I had a full tank I would've been lit up for sure. My empty tank saved me.
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In the late 90's there was an abandoned concrete factory here in San Antonio. It was in rough shape but was still a full factory building with cat walks, offices, hallways, huge machinery and a massive fence surrounding it with a no trespassing sign. Needless to say we played paintball in that as a group of 6. 3 vs 3 all over that place late in the evening. On a few occasions we had to make a swift retreat because a cop car showed up unannounced. We never got caught. That is until one day when we were talking and resting between games and a police officer literally sneaks out of the shadows and tells us not to run. We were absolutely sh*itting ourselves thinking the worst. He told us that one night on a patrol he noticed some paintball splatters on some of the buildings. He mentioned stopping by in the car every once in a while to see if he could join us. He thought it would be an awesome place to play paintball. He played with us a few times before we moved to actual fields to play.
Longer story. My teammates and I were new in the division we were playing in and some of my team had pre-match butterflies. Bad. Combine the butterflies with the upset stomach that some people tend to get when they are nervous and its a recipe for disaster. At least it was for my teammates underwear when he dove into the snake on our first match. Afterwards he seemed standoffish and as I mentioned, we were all pretty nervous wanting to make a good showing (we didnt) so we didnt think twice about it. Anywhoo, all day long this dude looked to be too far into his own head. We had a ton of gear and a small van we rented to take us from the hotel to the field so we made several trips coming and going for that day. In the hotel, I am on the bottom floor sharing a room with a few of my teammates and I have the window open and am resting on the window seal (no A/C in the hotel). Looking into the room and talking when my friends noticed something fall from above behind my back. I turn and look down onto a pair of absolutely destroyed underwear. Later that night we have a team meeting and towards the end I jokingly tell them about the mysterious shi*tty underwear that fell from the sky when my teammate broke down laughing. He admitted they were his and told us the story that as he dove into the snake on the very first point, he hit the ground wrong, farted, and shit his pants. We actually won that point and it was from the snake side. This dude pooped his pants, blasted fools, and stood away from us all day because he was nervous we would smell him. I asked him why he didnt take them off and clean himself up. He simply said it was contained in his clothes and he didnt feel it was possible to clean himself in the portapotties. Legend!Leave a comment:
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w3ki11suckers yeah, that was where I was going with my bad joke. -
dont forget about the tippmann c3. claimed it shot like 10k+ shots per tank -
I worked at an indoor field pre-2010 and a lot of crazy shit happened. So it goes at a place basically run by high school/college students.
Water bottles filled with CO2 snow booming in the parking lot, a kid trying to vacuum the floor getting shot up in staging, my boss losing his shit because I had left the front door open on a cold day, theft (one dude in particular...), bachelor parties chugging beer, etc. I could easily go on.
I will always remember how booming business was around halloween because the locals did paintball battles in the streets. Cheap blowbacks and CO2 tanks were hugely popular. You could count on at least one snatch and grab where a group would distract you while another person grabbed a rental Tippy and ran (my boss then drove up and down streets searching, maybe he would have run them down?). Thankfully I never came across any street battles.Leave a comment:
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Was trying out a new field in Ft. Wayne IN with a couple of friends... A sort of indoor/outdoor place that had just gotten started.
We were playing outdoors and they wouldn't let us stage out of our vehicles, so we had to carry our gear bags to this area near the field with a bunch of picnic tables.
We picked one out and had played a couple of games and were there with our gear getting ready for the next game.
I always bring a small pump sprayer and full roll of the good paper towels when I play and I let my friends use them.
So we are sitting there talking and this "young man" comes right up, grabs the sprayer and towel roll and walks off to the other side of the staging area.
We are all like ?????, so I get up and walk over to this clueless wonder and ask him what he is doing.
He replies "Cleaning my goggles".
I then ask him why he is using my stuff to do that with.
He then proceeds to tell me that it was the field's stuff and that I shouldn't be so stingy to "hog the cleaning stuff" and let others use it too.
I then tell him that it was my stuff he was using, not the field's stuff.
He says prove it.
I turn the spray bottle over and show him where I marked my name on the bottom with a paint pen.
He then says "Well how do I know that is you?"
I had to pull out my wallet and show him my driver's license.
I then proceeded to tell Mr. Sticky Fingers to leave my stuff alone, loud enough for everyone to hear.
As I am walking off... I hear him lecturing me how I shouldn't be stingy and allow other people usage of my stuff.
One of the refs or the owner of the field came over and quieted him down after that.
BTW: He was on the other team and we made sure that next game, we were not stingy with giving him our paint in large quantities.
He was not a happy camper.
Damn Thief.Leave a comment:
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Man these are great, I'm glad I made this thread
Sent from my motorola edge 2024 using Tapatalk
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Surprisingly yes....
I've been asked several times to sell my original run all black flex 8's -
To put it lightly.... Yeah. He is a full throttle personality even if it's running strait into a wall. Very Steve-O vibes -
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1999- was hit from above by a dozen or so paintballs in the middle of Vipers Quest for the Holy Grail at TXR paintball. It was a freaking Ultra-light aircraft with the pilot pouring pods of paint out for bomb runs. He was well out of paintball range from the ground but gravity doesnt care about that. He flew bombing runs for hours throughout the entire weekend.
2001- was getting read the riot act by a cop who pulled me over for aggressive driving, speeding, and improper lane changes. He was yelling because apparently those things are dangerous. Asked for my proof of insurance which was in the glovebox. When I opened it, there was a squeegie in there and a few paintballs. He instantly asked if I played paintball and I of course said hell yes. He said shit, I cant ticket a fellow baller. Come to find out he was in the same tourney series I was in and we had played against eachother. He knew my team by name and I knew his. I got off with a calm the F down while driving.
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