It all started with paint-balling.
I was off to this place here called "Reload Da Fun" where they have a bunch of adventure sports, paint-balling and zorbing to name some. At paint-balling, being the over-dramatic, cheesy person I am, I imagined myself to be a real soldier and I wanted to "sacrifice" myself for my team. So, I ran out of cover, screaming dementedly, "SHOOT ME!!".
KABLAAM.
Off went a paint-ball, or rather a bullet, through my exceptionally stinky helmet (coconut hair-oil. Eurgh.), and slapped my exposed jaw.Ouch. That's when I realized, paint-balling hurts.A lot. A LOT.
Thats not the end of the story,folks.
Next: Zorbing. Harmless fun, right? Not so in my case.
Me and the other person were strapped well in the zorb-ball, but when the ball was pushed, RIIIIPPP. Off went the other person's leg straps, and her legs were flaying helplessly.
Five tormented seconds later, at the end of the ride, I came out with a excruciatingly painful bruise on my head. Double Ouch.
A couple of days later, we were off to Ooty. Yay!
On the hills, the same unfortunate zorb-ball partner felt sick, and so I had to exchange seats with her. Our car was an Innova and I was sitting in the last row of seats, and since I had to get out, a middle-row seat was folded. I came out of the car and out of nowhere, came a drunk, creepy old-guy who was staring at us. We asked him to move but all he did was stare. I was shit-scared by his creepiness, and went back inside. Some genius inside said, "Sourabh, sit down!" and so I did. Except there was no seat, it was folded. My buttocks, along with my dignity, fell on the hard car-floor. And how. Triple Ouch.
Everyone burst into derisive peals of laughter, which lasted the entire trip. My condition was so pitiable that everyone there would just look at me and start laughing. Even my brother, who was relatively quiet the entire trip, had a sly smile on his face.
One hour of self-embarrassment later, we reached Ooty. It was the opening day of the hotel we had booked and so there were various artists performing there.
The last act, and the most dangerous one, was the fire-breathing by a "Dangerous John". And Mr.John had to pick ME, only ME, for a volunteer. Of course, it had to be me. Who else?
He offered me to drink some of the kerosene, which I refused. And to add more to my misery, he covered my head with a towel, which made me look ridiculously stupid, and breathed fire on my head.
Fortunately, there were no causalities, and I wobbled back to my seat.After these acts, the host needed a volunteer to start dancing, which I am not so good at. Who can it be? Of course, ME.
I started shaking my body like an idiot for quite a while before anyone joined me in my constantly failing attempts to move my body in rhythm with the music. WHY ME? WHHHYYYYY?
The next day, we were off to the lake at Ooty and we went for paddle-boating. And the other person paddling was none other than my zorb-ball partner. Everyone thought that we were jinxed. So to prove that we were not, we went on the same boat. And this time nothing went wrong, at least for a while. Right in the middle of the lake, when we were discussing about the so-called jinx, came little drops of water, which then turned into a horrendous rain-shower.
We were drenched from head-to-toe,but I was a bit happy.
"At least I'm not the only one suffering this time!"
Fortunately, the rest of the trip went accident-free, and I learnt something from the entire ordeal :
Stuff can be funny, as long as its not happening to you!
PS: Nothing is exaggerated here and everything has happened for real. Poor Me.
