Zombieland

Recently, on our first ever trip to the Wilson County Fair, I made one of my bottom 5 worst parenting decisions.  That's saying a lot, for me.

We arrived at the fair in Lebanon shortly after it opened on Saturday morning, about 10:15 a.m.  Most of the rides weren't running yet, so Jude, J.P., Joe and I wandered aimlessly around the midway.  We hit what passed for the Wilson County Fair's version of the "Euroslide," always a favorite of the boys at the State Fair.  There's not much to it, really.  A tall slide (a long walk up), burlap mats and fast slide down.  J.P. raced Joe and me down several times, with Joe riding in my lap.  Good stuff.

So far, so good, until I decided it would be a good idea for J.P. and me to to shoot some live zombies with paint ball funs.  Now, mind you, I'd never shot a paint ball gun or a zombie, for that matter.  Still, the concept seemed sound.  Paint ball guns, paint balls, live zombies. What could go wrong?

As we walked over to the setup (2 trailers pulled together longways) with tents of some sort off the open sides, J.P. and I joked about who would be more scared.  That question was quickly answered after we picked up our paint balls and walked inside the trailer.  It was dark, there were folding chairs for us to sit in and paint ball guns chained to a wire in front of us.  There were disembodied legs, arms and hand hanging in the air.  The lights went out, music started playing - loudly - and strobe lights flashed.  Then, zombies darted across the grassy, tented area.

J.P. was terrified, near tears as he huddled behind me.  I, of course, shot zombies with a vengeance, or tried to, anyway.  After my "ammunition" was spent, we started to walk out of the trailer.  One of the zombies reached through the half window and grabbed J.P. as he screamed.

Father of the year?  Not anytime soon.