CombatDome

Had some local friends over for dinner last night. It is wonderful to have some time with people who can perhaps explain the strange things that have happened since our last visit. For example, they switched sides in the divided garbage can for compost and burnables. Even they don't know why, but someone had to come through their entire neighborhood and switch the middle partition, as the burnables are to be 2/3 of the garbage can. No one changed ours, though, so we need to make more compost.

Anyway, WiseKid asked them about paintball possibilities in the area. They immediately knew a guy down in the village who organizes stuff like this, and then they pointed out the CombatDome in the next town.

I had taken WiseKid there once when he was far too young, and he was thrown out, so he didn't actually have the place on his radar. They remarked that you can now go shoot soft-air guns from the age of 12 if your parents go along.

So he begged to go. I pointed to the big pile of wood that has been waiting to be chopped since he took three trees down the first day. Only when this pile disappears will I consider driving to the CombatDome.

He chopped half the wood before breakfast this morning, had a quick one, and then chopped the other half and piled it nicely behind the shed. So I had no choice but to drive him there.

Twelve Euros (120 SEK) buys you an hour's worth of "fun" with equipment. The place was swarming with little guys 12-14 (actually only 6 of them, but as excited as all get out) and one mother. We made contact immediately, and spent a lovely hour chatting together while the guys went around shooting at each other.

She is a nurse from Hässleholm, she offered to take her boys and some neighborhood guys down on the train - the CombatDome is right across from the station in Höör. She hates guns, I hate guns; she doesn't understand why the guys enjoy shooting at each other and getting hurt, I don't either; we both made fun of the guys when they limped in, shot, and trying to be man enough not to cry.

At one point one of her boys took a bad shot, she had to go blow on it. Being a nurse, her breath has magical qualities.

WiseKid was sooooo happy to have guys to play with, he didn't mind them being younger. Also, they were crack shots, apparently practicing in the woods with illicit soft-air guns. First game he limped back first, they got him right away. But he learned quickly, and even managed to take them all out on one round.

I was glad of the company, although I had a ton of stuff to read. But there will be another day for reading, and WiseKid has been in a great mood the rest of the day.