As a new mother at the age of 40, I was constantly told that parenting was hard work, and perhaps someone of my age didn't have any of the right stuff left. Let me say I did just fine. In fact, having a child later in life left me free, in my youth, to explore the world unencumbered by a diaper bag. And the older he gets, the younger I feel.
Take yesterday, for example, when I accompanied my husband, son and their friends to Laser Quest, a local arena that promises to "blast your socks off with live action laser tag at its best!"For those of you who steadfastly choose the symphony to unwind, let me enlighten you. Laser tag is just like playing regular tag, only you're locked in a dark, smoky fallout shelter with a bunch of screaming kids, all of whom are armed. On the plus side, it doesn't matter what you wear.
The first order of business, besides acting tough, is choosing a code name. This is important, since it offers an opportunity to intimidate your opponents. After meeting some of mine -- Bloodhawk, Danger Boy, Sniper and Blackdeath -- I decided "Mom" was a bad name. Instead, I became Android, hoping to be seen as a heartless, mindless Terminator. (Really it's my nickname at home, stemming from my constant robotic cooking, cleaning, vacuuming and laundering, but that's another column.)
I tested my new persona by walking around announcing, in an Austrian accent, "I'll be back." Nobody even looked up from the violent video games they were playing to get their blood pumping. Tough crowd.
My fear mounted. A hard-core pacifist (during the Vietnam era, I wouldn't even watch the war on the evening news), I worried that I wouldn't be able to pull the trigger. My worst nightmare -- total humiliation in front of a bunch of teenagers -- might come true.
I confided my fear to my husband, and he said that once inside, it was shoot or get shot. He advised me to "Keep shooting! Shoot everyone!" Words of wisdom from a champion, a true legend in his own time. (At least at Laser Quest.)
When it was all over, I ranked 13th in a group of 17. My honor at stake, I opted for a second game. Besides wanting to improve my score, there was a bratty little kid who had followed me, shooting mercilessly, then hiding behind his mommy before I could retaliate. I wanted his hide! Fortunately he played again, and when his mother's back was turned I creamed him, holding the trigger down for a nine-shot power burst. (Sure, he didn't like it, but my shots-to-hits ratio improved quite a bit.)
Our friend Sam, by day an upstanding member of the community and father of three, was also a first-timer. Afterward he reported that to his surprise, laser tag was invigorating, especially after he "got the taste of the kill." The only negative was that he "felt a little guilty picking off the 5-year-olds, especially the girls." (Oddly enough, that was his son's favorite part.)
A note of caution: Choose your cohorts carefully. Make sure there aren't any sore losers in your group like my husband, the big baby, who blamed me for his poor showing in the second game. Reminding him of his advice, I pointed out that had he said, "Shoot everyone but me," I would have honored his request. Possibly. After all, I'm no dummy. When that final score is tallied, they don't factor in family.
Which brings to mind my first experience with laser tag, as an observer, several years ago. I went with a friend and our children, both 7 at the time. Watching from a viewing area, I was amazed to see my friend, a nurturing day-care provider by profession, stalking her little boy like Patty Hearst in that bank robbery. When I asked how she could pursue him like that, she said, "Remember the Menendez brothers? Well, if Richie comes after me, I'll be ready for him!"
That's one way to look at it and not totally without merit these days. Besides, it's highly aerobic, and it keeps your husband on his toes. I'll definitely be back.