Ha! That's some pretty big hype to live up to! It was way back in the day when Tshombe's CQB (he actually called it CQC) was open on the north side (of Tulsa). This was after its heyday of 20+ people every Sunday afternoon. A few of us were still going, hoping to keep it up. We played a variant of CTF in which a non-participant hid red grease rags around the basement and the two teams fought while we searched for the rags. Whomever had the most "flags" in our spawn point won. This is a ton of fun with 10 on 10 in such a small space, but this wasn't one of those times; more like 3 or 4 on 3 or 4. In these CQB games, I usually carried an M11A1 (.380 size) so I could run full blast and still pack a nasty punch. 20 RPS at 350 FPS ain't bad when it fits in the palm of your hand. I could make 3 50 rd mags last a full 10 minute game. Tshombe knocked holes in the walls of the basement about chest-high to create shortcuts (and general havoc) between the rooms. I took one of these shortcuts to get back to my spawn. Usually, I wore ball-caps when I played at Tshombe's. For some stupid reason I wore a boonie hat that day. It TOTALLY jacked my depth perception. So with 3 "flags" in hand, running full tilt, I ducked under the shortcut. I jerked my head up when I "knew" I had cleared the hole, but the cinder blocks knew better. I cracked my noggin harder than I ever had before, and stumbled into the main area. Moving so slowly, I was caught in a hail of BBs. I dropped my flags (in the spawn, since I still wanted to win) and took off my hat stumbling through the room. I ran my fingers through my hair, and my gloves came back shiny black. By this time Tshombe and Frosty who had been chatting in the safe zone were coming to check on me. Blood was seeping out of my head making my red hair even redder. Chunks of hair were coming out where I ran my fingers through my hair. Tshombe had a worried look on his face, but Frosty thought it was the coolest thing ever. He's responsible for all the pics from this fortuitous event... Not to be daunted by this occurrence, I thought I could sit down and wait for a minute and get back in the game. After a while, I realized I couldn't get up out of the chair. I called my roommate. There was no way I could drive home. I think the funniest part of the story was that he couldn't drive a stick, so he had to bring his little sister (who could) to pick up my car. I went home, got a shower, and got ready to go to Sunday evening church. I actually sat through an entire orchestra practice (15 years on the t-bone) before my roomie's mom got me to talk to a nurse that attended church with us. He took one look at it and when he touched it, it started bleeding again. He said I needed to go to the hospital right away. Doc (not our Doc, the urgent care doc) said I needed staples or stitches (this was after the nurse shaved part of my head, and I heard the doc in the hall say "you didn't need to do that") and said the anesthesia for stitches would hurt worse than staples. He said, "Here, let me show you how one feels." CLACK CLACK CLACK CLACK CLACK. That's my 15 minutes of airsoft fame. It is also the reason I bought the helmet that I was wearing in my avatar pic. If you need more details, ask Frosty. I posted a couple of the pics he took in the gallery section.