Sunday, April 14, 2013

Laser Tag

“You would shoot your own daughter? Who you love?” (Yes, she's still working on her grammar, but not her guilt trips.)

This was after she'd told me how bad she felt about shooting me multiple times and I admitted I might have shot her once or twice.

We were playing laser tag, as a family. I didn't know there was a dress code to laser tag. Everyone else was dressed in black. When they turned on the black-lights, I could see the advantage this would have. My daughter, of course, was dressed in purple sweats. Unfortunately, her mother had given no laser tag forethought when she bought them. There were white stripes down her legs, which under the black-lights almost hurt my eyes. Since it was “cold” out, she was also forced to wear a jacket (The laser tag place was right next to the indoor water park we'd spent the day at. My daughter was all set to stay in her swim suit. Since we were going back after wards, I thought this made sense too. Even though it was 40 degrees out, it was a short walk and my daughter and I were sure it would be warm once we were inside.) Again, my wife showed no thought to her daughter's safety and had her in a white jacket.

The game started with a small emergency...

“Daddy! They're attacking our base! Come on!”

“What's our plan?” I asked after I'd recovered from her blinding glow.

“We attack! Come on!” There was a level of deadly seriousness to her voice that made me feel sorry for her future boyfriends.

“Hold on. We need a plan.”

We were eye to eye as I crouched down. “You follow me. We'll shoot them.”

The simplicity of her plan had merits. It was the details that needed worked out, though. However, a seven-year old that has tasted her first blood of combat is not interested in pesky details. She turned and charged with a suicidal ferocity that would have left General Custer speechless with envy.

The next few minutes were... describable. Imagine a blinding glow bouncing around the randomly placed pylons, stopping for a brief second before jumping to the next. 4 red bars clearly standing out among the white (cause the red was where the other team shot at). At every pylon, there was a shout of “AHA!” followed by “Darn!!!” then off to the next pylon. (Unlike her mother, my daughter listened to the pre-slaughter briefing about no swearing. (My wife was irritated after wards about her pathetically low score. The conversation went something like this...

“Did we get points for shooting the base?”

“Yes,” I replied.

“How much?”

“100 points.”

“I don't think so. I kept shooting the base and I didn't get any points. You must be wrong.”

“Did the base shoot you?”

“The base shot back?”

"Yes.”

“Why didn't they say that?”

“They did. Every time it shot you, you lost 1000 points.”

“They really should have told us that!”

“They did.”

“When?”

“Right before we went in.”

“Well I stopped listening. They should have said it sooner.”

Now I know why the guy stressed no swearing several times...))

The “AHA!” was when she had a victim in her sites. The “Darn!!!” was when her vest went off because she was shot. Every six seconds, the vest would reactivate, just enough time for her to get in position for her next kill.

Now, you might be feeling resentment towards her mother for sending her only daughter into such a dangerous situation dressed so poorly. While I'm sure the blinding glow didn't help, it wasn't what was causing the Darns!!! No, there was a small technical issue. She snuck around each corner in a perfect assassin crouch. She carefully picked each target and squinted as she aimed for the kill shot. Then shot herself because she was holding her gun backwards.

I meant to help her, I really did, I was laughing too hard. And for the record, I did shoot her in the back. And no, I didn't feel a whole lot of guilt about it. Especially after she admitted shooting me back.

No comments:

Post a Comment