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Survival Games: Capture the Flag--With Paint Pellet Pistols
| Article
# : |
12518 |
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Section : |
LIFE
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| Issue
Date : |
7 / 1987 |
1,315 Words |
| Author
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Tom Nugent
Tom Nugent teaches journalism at the University of Maryland
in
Baltimore. His works include Death at Buffalo Creek,
published
by W.W. Norton. |
Except for the muted chattering of a distant squirrel, the forest is quiet. Nothing moves. And you wait.
The afternoon breeze plays a game of tag with itself, riffling through leaves of oak and locust, then wanders off into the thick underbrush.
You're alone, crouched behind a tree stump. You study the dense wall of surrounding vegetation. Nothing. You wait. A bird squawks, a buzzing yellow jacket noses cautiously through the shade. And you wait. Scanning the trees carefully, and straining every nerve, you ask yourself: "Is this how John Wayne would play it?"
Would he be content to crouch behind a tree stump, waiting patiently, helplessly, for the enemy to make the first move?
Hell, no!
It's time to attack!
As you step away from that protective stump, you hear the sound you've been dreading all afternoon: Crack!
It's a twig, snapping beneath a boot behind you.
You whirl. Time slows down. You're staring into the black snout of a gun barrel. Your mouth falls helplessly open. It's too late to object. If this were a nightmare, you'd try to run.
SPLAT!
You feel a sting on your right forearm and look down to see the scarlet stain slowly spreading. Quickly, you yank the yellow bandanna from your arm and bellow toward the distant judges. "I'm out!"
You've just lost a round in the "survival game" - one of the fastest-growing new sports in America.
While making the long trek back to the Survival Games headquarters you realize the only thing out here that really matters: It isn't blood, only red paint.
Exploding across America
The survival game phenomenon has exploded across
...
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