Went to a bachelor party in Alabama. Played paintball with eleven guys. Crazy shit. There's nothing like shooting your friends (and people you just met) in the face with paint pellets. They sting when they hit, which inspires you not to get hit.
The downside is that after spending six hours Saturday running, ducking, crouching in the woods, my body is stiff and achy and I've got a big blister on my trigger finger.
Whatever. I had a blast. I'd played paintball once before -- at another bachelor party -- and I had fun then, too. I should do it more often.
(Another downside: The blushing bridegroom specifically requested no strippers or titty bars. WTF? He's a great guy and one of the best friends I've made in Louisville, but he totally missed the point with his bachelor party.)
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"Every normal man must be tempted at times to spit on his hands, hoist the black flag, and begin to slit throats." --H.L. Mencken
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