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Pain[t]ball, the Friendly War

By Anonymous
Emmett Balzer

Large, red circles of pure pain that last for weeks. Sweat that soaks every piece of clothing from the inside out. Dirt that clings to damp skin like a disease. And to think that people pay upwards of RM 60 for this “treatment” is preposterous. On 25 February 2017, thirty-eight seniors and three senior class sponsors dove into the jungle arena, armed with one-hundred paint pellets and no more than a mask for body armor. Divided into two teams—about twenty on a side—they fought for every inch as they relentlessly engaged each other.

Rushing up behind cover, I led the right flank, pressing towards the enemy base. It would be a difficult task, for their base was on top of a large hill of tree roots—they had the high ground. While my team sat back and exchanged fire from long distance, a poor waste of ammunition, I pressed on, jumping from cover to cover, piles of tires and empty barrels. Lying flush against the tree roots and barrels, at least five “enemies” pelted my location, but their attempts were futile. Peeking around a tree, I engaged the first target in a single duel. After several rounds splashed off the tree and whizzed past my head, I managed to nail him right in the stomach. You’ll still feel that one next week, I thought silently. As he retreated, I turned and saw another enemy who had advanced past me and failed to notice me. An easy shot it would have been for either of us. But I saw him first and dished out some cold punishment.

Dashing behind the next line of cover, I caught someone advancing out in the open. Seeing her imminent demise as I focused my fire, she (who I later learned to be Mersades) quickly lay down into a sniping position. Despite my best attempts, the thick grass and long distance prevented me from overwhelming her, and she pinned me down in that location for the remainder of the round.

Besides the literal marks this event left behind on all of us as we engaged in exhilarating and adrenaline-packed combat, this event brought the class together in a completely different way as we shared stories of our own victories and misfortunes of the battle on the journey home. As Mr. Horton said, "It didn't hurt too bad, but it sure left a good mark." This quote captured the atmosphere of the event: a little bit of pain for a wonderful memory.

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