::Voodoo-People::

As I sit here reflecting on the weekend past I’m realising I’m hurting in places its not possible to hurt, but there is a kind of poetry within the pain as each bruise and each ache manage to tell their own little story.

So it started off on the Friday with a mad rush to get everything ready and into the little Vauxhall Zafira we hired to get us down to the seaside resort commonly known as Newquay. So lets fast forward a little bit as that is obviously an incredibly boring story. We eventually came into Newquay and with no plans on where we going to sleep that night we saw a sign for 10 pin bowling, eventually after a u-turn or 2 we pulled into the “Hotel California” (It is a requirement that you sing this name out loud whilst reading this) which promised us some pin action.

So we set them up and knocked them down and after some debating (The heavens opened) we abandoned the idea of camping and decided we would instead stay in the “Hotel California” so Perry set about getting us a good room deal. After the initial conversation it was clear that they didn’t want us to have the room for anything less than £60pp but Perry stuck to his guns and said when they came to their senses come and see us in the bowling alley (There were 4 lanes and everything)

So we bowled some frames without incident (Except the miners of Mordor did stop at some point and wouldn’t give us our balls back) and eventually the young lass from reception did come and find us and offered us the rooms for £50pp so we set about getting ready for the evening ahead.

The evening started much as it normally does with the consumption of some food and generous amounts of beer, which saw us winning a couple of hats and sunglasses branded with a certain beers corporate image. Steve managed to hold onto his hat for all of an hour before it was stolen in a drive by mugging but my hat managed to stay with me for the entire weekend (Almost in one piece too)

So to sum up the rest of Friday evening, beer, beer, Halos, beer and finally bed. And thats how it should have stayed, but for some reason I found myself outside the hotel room desperate for a piss after having already gone to bed which confused me slightly but a quick phone call to Perry requesting that he lets me in soon sorted that little problem out.

Eventually it was Saturday and after a quick pit stop at the breakfast table of the hotel we were on our way to the first activity of the day… Paintballing! Which started off in a worrying fashion as they we’re suprised to see us and had no recollection of us booking the weekend. That aside we started getting suited up and split up into teams. The hat was still with me at this point and I took pride in sitting it upon my visored head. With everyone in their various camouflage it was impossible to tell who was who, except for maybe Paul who had a bright green boiler suit which would work to his disadvantage later!

The Stag Group

The games went by as they normally do with little breaks in between so people could mock each over etc etc, but by far the most interesting highlight would be the fact that every game so one would find Paul and shout “THERE’S PAUL” which would cause everyone to open fire on him until finally there was a cheer when he finally got shot. Other hightlights include the game where 1 team had to hide and all that could be heard over the battlefield is the following conversation.

“PERRY IS THAT YOU?”

“yes..”

“DO YOU WANT A HUG?!”

“love you”

“LOVE YOU”

Now lets fast forward to the final game which is where most of my pain began. The reason for this was because the finally game was called “Hunt the Stag… and his best man” So after the initial countdown 14 guns opened fire on the 4 of us (There was another stag party with us) now in my infinite wisdom I decided I was gonna get as many of them as possible so I stood my ground thinking I could take the pain, but when everyone else had run off there was only really one target and it wasn’t long before the pain had become too much so I done what any self respecting man would have done. I ran away, losing my hat in the process, and as a hail of paintballs splattered on my back I had a rough idea what it would be like to be one of those middle eastern chaps who lay on the bed of nails but in this instance it was like a sumo wrestler had decided to belly flop on said middle eastern chap. Eventually my cowardice bought me to the end of the playing field where I met Perry huddled up behind a crate with not a single mark on him.

Bastard! So the paintballing out of the way we headed of to St Eval Go Karting track and after a short pause we were all racing around the track with tyres squealing. After the 2 15 mins sessions we consulted the print outs from the lap times and assigned trophys to 1st 2nd and 3rd places.

Then it was just a matter of getting back to the hotel and going out for some more beers, this went less than fanastically as we were all exhausted from the days activities. So through out the night the numbers slowly dropped until only 3 remained. Myself, Perry and Lee. Some how we managed to find the energy to carry on until we finally rolled up to the hotel at about 4.30 and then we proceeded to have an argument with little hitler who was just being plain awkward. The rest as they say is history, but as I sit here typing this with bruises all over my body from paintballs and car seats, my ribs and stomach hurt from laughing so much and with my legs in so much pain I’m thinking of having them removed I know 1 thing for sure.

I don’t think he’s gonna forget it in a hurry!