It snowed yesterday.
We didn't get much -- maybe just an inch or two -- but it was enough for a snowball fight, and an epic one at that. Our group was out there for an hour and a half. On several occasions, we completely exhausted our snow supply and had to keep moving farther down the street in search of more ammunition. And I learned a very important lesson: I have terrible aim. Unfortunately, several of the guys didn't. I've got the bruises to prove it.
Occasionally, a random stranger would have the misfortune of needing to pass right though our war zone, at which point someone would yell, "Civilian! Cease fire!" And whenever we saw headlights, we'd of course call our, "Car!" Once it passed, it was game on. It reminded me of when all the neighborhood kids would get together to play hockey or soccer in the street.
Good times.
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| (Before.) |
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| (After.) |
By the time we called it quits and headed back inside, we were soaked and shivering, and pretty much looked a mess.
Which, of course, is the sign of a great snowball fight.
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