Culture Wars

Remember my former boss from the UK? Let's call him "English Bob". Today he makes a second appearance in the ol' blog, courtesy of another hilarious cultural disparity.

Brits don't have guns. They don't see them, except on the "tele", and even the police don't have them. So guns are mysterious to them. And scary.

It came to be that we set up a "paintball" exercise with a group of people from work and beyond. I coaxed English Bob to come along, despite his innate British fear of guns. He kept asking me if it hurt badly when you got hit. I told him it only stings a little, but if he wore a jacket it would help.

I explained the basic rules of paintball to him. It's like "capture the flag" with guns that shoot soft balls with a waxy dye in them. If you get hit, this "paintball" breaks open and colors you so everyone knows you are down. Whichever team gets the other teams flag wins. Pretty straightforward.

I'm almost sure I added that "stealth is important, so dress in camo", but I can't remember.

So English Bob showed up to the paintball field wearing a small comforter wrapped around his middle, topped off with a bright silver, winter-weight fluffy coat. He looked like a cross between the Tin Man and the Pillsbury Dough Boy as he galloped through the woods in giant leaping bounds.

You could see him a mile away. Indeed, it was almost impossible NOT to see him.

Needless to say, English Bob didn't last long in the field. He went down like a 14-point buck on the first day of hunting season.

His offensive skills were lacking too. He was scared of his gun and flinched when he shot it, causing the paintball to go skyward in a futile arc.

He kept reminding us all that this was not a sport and nothing like it would ever be played in England.

It wasn't a total loss: the many blotches of waxy dye he accumulated added a nice touch of color to his silver outfit.