It was almost like a theme for a video-game:
Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to smuggle a group of rebels (with their parent's permission) out of prison, through an arctic, cement jungle and lead them into battle against the enemy in a secluded, hidden location. You and your team will be provided with high-tech, impenetrable body armor protecting your entire body with the exception of vulnerable locations on your chest, the middle of your back, and your shoulders. In addition, you will be (self-)provided with a stepometer that will measure each step of your day. Following the battle, if you survive, you will need to lead your team back to the outpost location that they were initially smuggled from and provide them with rations that offer little sustenance and lack many essential vitamins and minerals.
I accepted the mission.
So, Saturday morning, I went to my monthly volunteer event. We walked through a blizzard with the kids to a Lazer Tag center in the middle of Times Square and dis-robed our plethora of layers and placed the full battle gear on our bodies. This consisted of four body sensors and an arsenal of lazer guns with ample, replenishable ammunition. Okay, maybe I took the mission a little too seriously. Tell that to the kids that I had to pistol-whip when I ran out ammunition. During the battle, I staked out my sniper position so that the target on my back was covered, I covered the sensor on my chest with my folded arms, and picked off the kids one by one while annihilating and pummeling their "goal", easily leading my team to victory in the second round. Of course, the whole time I was being chased by Maria, the little girl that was put in charge of keeping me in line. The only victum on that trip was my health conscience, due to the fact that my pedometer, which was counting my steps throughout the day and the battle, was dislodged from it's secure position on my waste sometime during the day. Which is unfortunate, because I had a massive walking-weekend....
By the time we left to take them back, the snow was just dumping loads and loads, and I was loving every minute of it. So we finally got the snow storm I had been hoping for. This meant that I could bust out my waterproof hiking boots that I purchased last summer, giving me girthy traction and leather protection from the elements. They are still in the process of being broken in, but they successfully resisted the temptation to give me fat blisters on my feet...
Sunday, I took a few pictures of the snowfall aftermath, which I will post to my website in short order. Paul and I checked out Central Park with it's acreage of snow and kids in their bunny suits with their slides sliding down the hills. Last year, my hellish employer's scheduling pretty much caused me to miss out on seeing the park covered in snow, so I had to do that as soon as possible this year. Quite awesome!
For the sake of our healthy lifestyle, we decided not to play raquetball tonight and instead spent about four hours at a sports bar/restaurant with our eyes marginally following football games while we scarfed down burgers, fries, and desserts while playing trivial pursuit with the cards provided at each table. As usual, the women killed Paul and I. It's pretty sad when we can't beat them at basketball, raquetball, or tests of intelligence. With the exception of domesticated questions, like how many tablespoons are in a cup. How in the world did we get that question right? Aren't we men????
J. Riley
