I found out about laser tag from a guy I know named Woody. Woody is in public relations, despite the fact that he looks like - and I say this as a friend - a street person who has failed to take his medication since 1972. I believe this is the secret of his success: When Woody approaches business people, they expect him to ask them for spare change and possibly throw up on their shoes, and when he doesn't, they're so relieved that they agree to let him handle their public relations.
Anyway, Woody represents this outfit that operates a laser-tag game, and he'd been bugging me to try it."It's really cool," he said. "Everybody runs around and tries to shoot everybody else."
"Woody," I said, "that doesn't sound like a GAME. That sounds like MIAMI."
But finally I decided to look into it, because I'm a journalist, and in my line of work, you never know when you're going to come across a socially significant new phenomenon, except that this will definitely not happen to you if you're playing laser tag.
And thus on a Friday afternoon I went with my son, Rob, to the laser-tag place in Coconut Grove, which is a part of Miami where busloads of European tourists go to enjoy the unique south Florida tropical experience of meeting and mingling with other European tourists, sometimes from completely different buses.
The laser-tag place was staffed by wholesome-looking young people. They collected $7.50 apiece from us and ushered us into the Briefing Room, along with about a dozen others who would be playing the game - some teenage boys, a family with munchkin-size children, and two women who looked as though they came directly from work.
At this point we were just ordinary humans with no interest in killing each other.
A staff person divided us into a Red Team and a Green Team, then explained the principles of the game, which boil down to: Shoot the other team. (Actually, the staff person, for public-relations reasons, used the term "tag" instead of "shoot.") Each time you get shot you lose a life; after you lose four lives, you go to the Re-Energizer, where - here's a major improvement over reality - you get four MORE lives.
The staff person also said we could use our lasers to deactivate the Enemy Base.
"Why would we do that?" asked one of the women who looked as though they came directly from work.
Rob and I smirked at each other, guy-to-guy, trying to imagine the mental state of a person who would not immediately grasp the importance of deactivating the Enemy Base. Our smirks got even smirkier when this woman asked if it was OK to play the game WEARING HIGH HEELS AND CARRYING PURSES.
Sometimes you have to wonder what is happening to this nation.
After the briefing, we went into the Vesting Room, where we each got a laser gun, attached to a red or green plastic vest (the vest has a device that vibrates when somebody shoots you). Then we were led to a big, dark, semi-spooky room with artificial smoke drifting around and a big maze in the middle, full of nooks and crannies where a person could skulk. The two teams went to opposite ends of the room. Then a voice on the loudspeaker said "5 . . . 4 . . . 3 . . . 2 . . . 1 . . ." and suddenly the room was filled with extremely loud pulsating music apparently created by musicians beating their amplifiers to death with rocks.
I am not a violent person. I am a product of the Flower Power '60s. I have actually worn bell-bottomed jeans and stood in a mass of hundreds of people, swaying back and forth, singing "Everybody get together, try to love one another right now," having vivid visions of World Peace. (Granted, some of us were also having vivid visions of giant red frogs hopping across the sky, but that's another issue.) I haven't been in a fight since seventh grade and have never owned a gun.
But when the laser-tag game started, a primeval reptile instinct took over my brain, turning me instantly into The Avenging Death Killer of Doom. I made Rambo look like Mister Rogers. I was a wild man - darting through the dark maze, ducking around corners, making totally unintelligible combat-style hand signals to my teammates. At one point, I swear, I signaled to my son, and, without a trace of irony, yelled "Cover me!" My nervous system was on Maximum Overload Red Alert, because I knew that somewhere out there, in that smoky gloom, was The Enemy, and I had to hunt him down without pity, because he was a merciless killer who would not hesitate to . . .
BZZZZZZZZZZ
NO! My vibrator is vibrating! I've been SHOT! The Enemy is even more deadly than I thought! He is vicious! He is brutal! He is . . .
HE IS A WOMAN WEARING HIGH HEELS.
At least she didn't hit me with her purse.I also got nailed repeatedly by the munchkins. The Avenging Death Killer of Doom spent a lot of time skittering back to the Re-Energizer, trailed by a persistent 7-year-old with excellent aim who was making The Avenging Death Killer of Doom's vest vibrate like a defective alarm clock.
But I also scored a few hits myself, and at one point - I want this in my obituary - I deactivated the Enemy Base. Overall I found the experience to be far more entertaining than anything currently being funded by the National Endowment for the Arts. And to those of you who feel that this kind of game is bad because it might encourage aggressive behavior in a society that is already far too violent, let me say that, while I understand your point, I also feel that this type of "play-acting" activity can provide a harmless release for aggressiveness and actually REDUCE violence. So shut up or I'll kill you.