LOSING MY
FIRST-TIMER
AIRSOFT
VIRGINITY
The adventures of an airsoft virgin, with Ant Platt
T
he Safe Zone felt a hell of
a lot safer when we had
it to ourselves. Once the
rest of the players started
turning up and unloading
their arsenal I felt entirely unprepared.
Suddenly the AK47 lying on the table
looked no more effective than a
wooden club when compared to the
veritable armoury surrounding us. I’d
caught a sly glance down the register
and knew there was only one other
player who’d booked hire kit. When he
turned out to be an 11-year-old boy, I’ll
admit I felt out of my depth.
I’m not a soldier. I’m no macho
action man. I’m not even remotely fit
– a light jog to the bus stop is enough
to turn me into a quivering,
wheezing wreck. And it’s been
several long years since I had
played with BB guns. What, I
couldn’t help wondering, was
I thinking?
In short, I was thinking
I ought to try it. Even just
once, to see what it’s like.
I’d read the articles, I’d seen
the pictures, I’d perused
the weaponry and kit. But if I
wanted to write on the subject
with any authority I simply
had to get out there and try it.
So there I was: stood outside the
Safe Zone at the Grange, Gunman
Midlands, dressed in my borrowed
fatigues and draining yet another
cigarette while the rest of the players
arrived.
Though nervous I had thankfully
done a little research, and nothing
“I’m no soldier, but give a little
boy a gun and he’ll feel like a
superhero. That’s all airsoft is –
the kind of thing that appeals to
boys who never grew up”
www.airsoftactionmagazine.com
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