Alex Piner
WRTG 3020
July 21, 2011
SoCal Outlaws
“Freeze! Get down on the ground!” These were the six words that marked the end of my airsoft career.
Airsoft guns are replica firearms that shoot plastic pellets, also known as BBs, by way of compressed gas or a spring-driven piston. In high school, my clique went through a phase where we would fire our airsoft guns whenever and wherever we got the chance- on the way to school, on the way home from school, drive-by shootings in front of Starbucks, on my cul-de-sac, hiking trails, you name it. I remember multiple times when my brother and I would drive home from basketball practice with our windows down minding our own business. Our friend and teammate Matt would pull up beside us and open fire, always connecting with a shot to my right cheek. We would weave in and out of traffic for miles shooting at one another with half of my body sticking out of the passenger window, desperate for revenge and to make a welt on Matt’s flesh.
I will never forget how thrilling these couple months of my sophomore year of high school were. There is nothing like being a young and careless teenager with no real regard for the law. I had an airsoft gun arsenal that would make Rambo blush; it consisted of an Uzi, an AK-47, a shotgun, and a gas-powered pistol. To this day I can’t believe that my parents would buy those dangerous toys for me- a teenager with reckless abandon and no common sense.
One day our airsoft crew decided to engage in battle on the secluded bike trails a couple minutes away from my house. My brother Max and I along with our friends Jeff, Jules, Matt, Nick were all set with our respective weapons and ready to wreak havoc. Just when the festivities were about to begin I noticed a man and his toddler daughter walking up the trail. I panicked and yelled, “Conceal your weapons!” and threw mine in the tall shrubs on the side of the trail. Everyone else followed suit and we all stood awkwardly, pretending we were taking a break from a long hike. I said to the man, “Hello sir! Great day for a hike isn’t it?!” He gave me a blank stare and continued to walk, putting his head down and increasing his speed slightly. We collectively breathed a sigh of relief as we could finally start inflicting pain on one another.
We were somersaulting, jumping, diving, ducking, and dodging BBs in the heat of battle. I spent several minutes circling around the area, patiently waiting to sneak up on Nick. He is one of those people who always tries to one-up others, so nothing brings me more pleasure than beating him in embarrassing fashion. When the moment came and I had him at point blank range, a deep, commanding voice shouted, “Drop your weapons! Freeze! Get down on the ground!” I looked to my right only to see a police officer pointing his 9mm glock right at my domepiece. I felt a couple drops of pee drip down my leg; I felt paralyzed and my lungs seemed to have collapsed as I began to slowly bend my knees and make my way toward the ground. Lying there facedown in the dirt while being frisked by a cop, I saw my life flash before my eyes.
The cop told us that he got an anonymous call that there were six men with guns on the Limestone Trail. Son of a bitch! I shouted in my head, realizing the man who walked by with his daughter snitched on us. The officer also said, “You boys are lucky y’all had them orange tips on them guns, or else I would’ve been forced to shoot this boy right here” as he was pointing to my black friend Matt.
My brother and Jeff were put in handcuffs because they were 18 and were considered our “guardians” that fine afternoon. The police escorted us out to the main street and the six of us sat on the curb in silence, staring at the ground. Multiple passersby were rubbernecking in their cars, some even felt the need to roll down their windows and shout “HA-HA!” or “Losers!” We were sitting there for approximately a half hour, but it felt like weeks. I looked to my left and saw my friend Nick, a 4.0 student and President of our sophomore class, sobbing like a newborn baby. He was pulling his hair out and hitting the top of his head repeatedly mumbling, “There goes my future (sniff, sniff)… there goes my future.”
Luckily, we were all let off with a warning and sent home, but I have not laid a finger on an airsoft gun since that dreadful day. I can now finally relate to 2Pac because I too am “tired of getting shot at, tired of getting chased by the police and arrested.” Hopefully I have earned my rightful place next to him in Thugz Mansion.