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On Friday, September 7, the church youth group had dinner together at a place called Big John's in San Souci, which is in Northern Sydney. Most of the group ordered steak in some fashion. I ordered a T-bone steak with mushroom sauce. This steak was no ordinary one, either. To match the name of the restaurant, this steak was BIG. No, it was HUGE! So large that I couldn't even eat it all in one sitting. I felt ashamed that I couldn't finish the meal; I somehow felt that my manhood was being challenged by the other blokes who inhaled their steaks. But then again, most of them ordered the fillet (oddly pronounced "fill-it" here, not "fill-ay") rather than the T-bone. I wasn't the only one at the table who couldn't finish his steak, though, so I didn't feel quite so bad. It reminded me of the very strange Aussie commercials featuring the "man-cans" scenarios. In the commercials, a guy who is with his friends develops "man-cans" when he doesn't do the manly thing. It's like something you would see on SNL.
In my defense, I think there were as much mushrooms piled on the plate as there was steak. I ate all the mushrooms, along with the salad and "mashies" (which are breaded balls of mashed potatoes) before I dug into the steak.
After dinner, we all headed to the youth house, which is next door to the church. A small group of us played Halo on Xbox until it got late. Half slept in the church, and the rest (including me) slept in the house. I crashed on the couch. I don't have a couch, so I had the strong desire to sleep on it, even though there was a bed available to me. There's something about a nice, plump couch that's comforting. Something that a bed can't deliver. I suppose it made me feel at home; all those times of falling asleep on the couch have left a special place in my heart for good couches. I think the others were a little baffled at my decision to forego sleeping on a bed. But I slept into the night with the sound of falling rain filtered through the back door.
The next morning, we arose bright and early to get ready for paintball skirmish, the "Buck's Party" for Robert. I must admit that I was a little nervous about the whole venture. I had never been paintballing, so I had no idea what to expect. I had never been shot by a paintball, and I wasn't keen on finding out how it felt. The paintball place was located in a fairly rural area. On the way there, we passed an Outback Steakhouse, much to my surprise. The prior week, I had seen a talk-show host making fun of Outback Steakhouse and laughing at what Americans classified as Aussie food. I didn't expect to actually find one in Australia.
When we got to the paintball place, we all had to sign a liability waiver. "What have I gotten myself into?" I thought. We all lined up for our camouflage coveralls and protection. The face mask left my neck and head vulnerable, so I also bought a camouflage hat and turned it backwards so that the bill covered my neck. I wasn't taking any chances, so I also bought a "box" (their term for a cup).
After we had all dressed in our coveralls, we had to sit in on a safety talk. We were then given our guns and amo and taken to the firing range, where we had a bit of target practice. I had opted for the standard gun, while others had upgraded to much better guns (which I didn't think was worth the price; the cost had already started to add up). I saw some of the other guys rattling off multiple rounds per second, while my pathetic little gun was firing, at most, only two shots per second. Seeing all those paintballs rapidly firing at the poor refrigerator in the firing range didn't help the growing anxiety of being shot.
Once everyone grew tired of shooting targets, we walked out to the first course, where we were divided into two teams. Lucky for me, I ended up on the side that had the majority of the high-end guns, so I wouldn't have to be subjected to being hit by 20 paintballs per second. That was some relief to me, but I was still a bit apprehensive. Each team ran to its respective area of the course, and I found a good hiding place. And then the whistle blew. Paintballs began flying from every direction. I peaked over my barricade to spot the enemy. I saw someone behind a tree and began firing. I stayed well-protected, but suddenly I felt a sting in the back of my neck. I reached back and wiped my neck, discovering white paint on me. I had been shot from behind! And no one was even back there. Apparently we were a little too close to the firing range, and I had been struck by a stray paintball from someone's target practice. What a crummy way to be shot! I wanted to return fire in the direction of the firing range, but I figured that would only result in me getting the firing squad, which is the disciplinary action for anyone who breaks the course rules or does something stupid. One guy in our group did have to face the firing squad before the day was over. He jumped in on another group's game for a moment and began firing randomly. Our guide didn't like that too much and got three very eager volunteers from our group to form the firing squad. It was amusing for everyone, but not so much for the guy being shot. No one else broke any rules the rest of the day.
After that first time of being shot, all fear escaped my body and was replaced by pure adrenaline. I had a lot of fun on the variety of courses offered on the compound. My favorite one was the course that looked like a big junk yard with all kinds of old cars, vans, and sheds that we could hide in. There were other courses that were in the woods with pretty thick tree cover. I found myself lying on the ground behind a tree at one point, cleverly hidden and waiting to ambush my opponents. And then it occurred to me. I'm in Australia. In the woods. After a rain. Laying next to a tree with loose bark everywhere. The perfect conditions for spiders; more importantly funnel web spiders. Suddenly, I didn't care too much about getting shot. I kept my eye out more for any creepy-crawlies that might try to surprise me. Luckily, I didn't see anything. But that doesn't mean they weren't there. I hate spiders; I hate even the thought of spiders. Australian spiders, anyway.
The only time it really hurt to be shot was when someone got a little too close and somehow shot my fingers. That one stung for a while. I was behind a barrel firing at someone in the distance, when out of nowhere, someone popped up over the barrel and shot me. I think he broke the 3-meter rule; it wouldn't have been so bad if it was anywhere else, but my poor fingers took the hit.
After being shot so many times over the course of the day, I expected there to be some bruising; but surprisingly, I only found one tiny, slightly red mark on my arm the next day. Instead, my legs ached more than I think they ever have. I had spent so much time running and crouching behind cover the previous day that my thighs apparently couldn't handle it. I could barely get up from bed the next morning to go to church. And walking was pretty painful. But the most torture was trying to walk up or down stairs. When I got to church, I discovered that everyone else was in the same boat. After our morning bible class, the whole room groaned in unison as everyone tried to get up from their seats. It was too funny.
After the morning sermon, a Lebanese couple from church invited me to lunch. Actually, the husband invited me, to the surprise of his wife. She wasn't expecting to have company over for lunch, so she felt guilty for not having planned a big meal. But I was up for anything that was hot, since I don't really ever have the time or energy to cook for myself. (And cooking just isn't fun when there's not a group to share it with). I rode home with them in the back seat next to their two-year-old daughter, Lily. She was so adorable. They had her 14 years after their last son. When they were expecting her, they actually thought they were going to have another son, which is what the doctor told them. And then, much to their surprise and delight, they had a daughter. They had to return all the baby boy items they had bought.
For lunch, we had food leftover from Lily's birthday party from the previous day, which included cake. I'm not sure what kind of cake it was; it was very good, whatever it was. After we finished eating, I met their older son, who came home after a while. He's around my age. Lily entertained us all in the living room for some time. She made me a pretend cup of coffee and brought it to me. And then she offered some of her hair to her father and brother, both of whom are bald. Apparently it's some game they play where Lily pretends to give them some of her hair. She even offered me some of her hair, which made them hysterical with laughter. So I guess I fit right in. (Now would be a good time to mention that I cut most of my hair off (or at least what was left). It's very short now, and I like it a lot better. I feel very liberated. I've posted a picture for those who haven't seen it.) Once it was time to leave, they invited me to come back for lunch on another Sunday, when she plans to cook a big meal for me. I'm looking forward to it.
The next day, I was still sore from paintball. (The soreness would persist for the entire week, much to my anguish.) That night, I still managed to walk to school and up the steps to my classroom. When I arrived, I only found two of my friends there. No one else in sight, not even the teacher. They looked at me and said in unison, "No class." Somehow, we three had missed the memo. We all left the room, a bit peeved for having wasted the trip. When we got outside, we discovered a group of people unloading an SUV in the middle of campus, not to mention the limo that was parked at the front gate. We asked one of the women nearby to see what was going on. She said in a very hushed tone, "We're filming a McDonald's commercial here." How random can you get? A McDonald's commercial being filmed at an art school, which is an old mental hospital. That makes perfect sense. McDonald's and old mental hospitals go hand-in-hand, right? (Here's a tidbit: McDonald's is often referred to as "Macker's" here, but the Aussie pronunciation makes it sound like "Macka's") So we all stuck around for an hour or so and watched them set up everything. We didn't see much of the actual filming because it got a bit chilly, and we wanted to go home. We couldn't figure out what the commercial was about, but I guess we'll see it on TV soon enough. I just know they had a good-size budget. One that we would love to have for our student productions. We watched in envy as they set up all of their professional gear. Sure, our school has gear, but nothing to that extent. It's funny when weird things like that happen. It makes life all the more interesting.
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