231 Erwin Road

My experiences as a Northern transplant down in Chapel Hill, NC, 2005. And now my experiences back up in NYC.

Saturday, March 19, 2005


Saturday was another typical day at the office firing guns at my coworkers. However, they were only loaded with paint this time.

I went with Brandon and Martin. We made a stop a Walmart first to gear up. The 3 of us got some kick ass milatary shirts with the all so clever slogan, "Can you see me now?" embroidered across them. (Okay, so maybe it wasn't embroidered, just painted on, this is Walmart.) Additionally, Brandon and I purchased some sexy, tight around everything, black jeans (on sale.)

Our drive out to the middle of Durham was fun, we took in a lot of sights. What we saw:
  • A mailbox hoisted on top of a giant hoe (not what you're thinking)
  • An inhabited apartment building with an entire section missing from what appeared to have been a fire
  • A pawn shop with 6' tall letters that read: (and take this for what you want)

  • A church sign that read "Pray until something happens"
  • And finally, another dirt road which I tore up Duke's of Hazard Style
We played a few sloppy courses at TrianglePaintball which is NOWHERE as cool as this place. Most of our games were to fight until the last man was standing. Capture the Flag (CTF) was a lot more bloody and a lot more fun. For our first attempt, our team had the bright idea of making a wall of people and running at the flag, hell, they couldn't shoot us all, right? I ran towards the flag with my gun in one hand and my balls in the other (sorry, not all of us brought cups like Martin.) Needless to say, that strategy didn't work out well for us. It was a massacre, we got lit up. We had a little hitch though, we were running up hill, they were running down hill and there was a giant wooden spool between the two teams. When both teams arrived at the spool, some fat ass on their team ran into it and knocked it down on to me and a few other people. One kid was a little bitch and wouldn't stop screaming, I would have unloaded on him myself if the other team didn't.

After a long day of running, dodging, shooting, and being pelted, we headed back though Durham for some authentic south of the border cuisine, a little Latino place that I noticed on the way in. I guess I had margarita's pictured in my mind, but they only had cerveza. The food was decent and our waitress didn't speak any English. Good thing Fran'cisco' was their to help (although the Texan seemed to have the Spanish tounge going for him too.) I had bbq barbacoa, that be some good shit.


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