these games we play
Mike is in high spirits these past few days. He's found a new game.
I listen from a distance at first. But realizing that I always complain that we do not do something together, I am getting giddy at the prospect that I will finally join him on this one!
With a handful of his friends, he is preparing for an airsoft sports team. He is always on the Internet searching for toy guns and paraphernalia and videos of other groups and companies at play.
My imagination started to run wild. Will this take the center stage and put golf in the sidelines? And since I'm not allowed in the green course because I would slow down the game, will I be allowed on the firing field?
I can pull the trigger! I think I could even make a good tactician. Okay honestly maybe not. But I could carry the video camera. Or handle the radio. Lug the water bottles. Be the one to have the sense to bring candles to ward off the flies. Restock the ammo. Even decorate the base!
The hikes in Malasag hill! And the sweetest thing of all - to dress up! Oh my, but olive is so not good for my skin tone. Khakis are great and with a little bit of accent, could pass up very well. But a camouflage getup makes the most sense of all. Throw in a pair of black boots as well. The ones that do not come with heels this time.
For headwear. A beret? Or a cap? What looks fantastic with this short hair? Oh, the sunblock and the insect repellant.
I line up the trainings we'd organize. How to read a compass. Hundreds of jumping jacks. No swimming though because I do not know how to do that. Reading a map. Reading the wind. Doing the knots. Hhmm, this starts to sound like the Girl Scouts.
And what will be my airsoft name? "Lara Croft" is so obvious - so I'd carry a dagger up my thigh. "Barbie Warrior" when I can find pink watercans. "Remington Steele" and I'll have the small girly pistols instead. "Conqueror Augustus" in reverence to my birth month and for luck in the games. "Optimus Prime" for the touch of the Transformers mania. I can already imagine my dog tag! Oh to have it engraved!
I think I want to be Captain. No, I'm okay with Lieutenant.
Hah. Mike asks if I know how a hit looks and feels like. I said I know it feels awful and looks ugly. Let's not visit pain.
He told me to form my own group. Say take five of my friends and call ourselves the "Spice Girls" and fight with another group of my girl friends who shall be the "Pussycat Dolls". What lousy alternative. I want to play with the boys!
Mike said No. He'll get me the costume, err, uniform - but I'll crawl and play war at home. He'll get me the dog tag with the name I'll finally choose, but that's all there is.
What a drag a two-letter word can be. Pulls you down. I'm even willing to be the lowest class of Private! Nevermind. As Anne Shirley said, flying up on the wings of anticipation, as glorious as soaring through a sunset... almost pays for the thud. THUD.
