Not Dun and Bradstreet

Bari had to reload. She couldn't handle the 25 militant congo soldiers approaching. She was shot, once, twice. Her vision went red, but she kept going. I had a handle on two on the suspension bridge, but Bari took out three on the side steps, distracting the two above. It was a good thing, since suddenly we were ambushed with grenades. They had switched weapons mid-attack, the bastards! Bari and I crouched behind a fallen tree to reload, but neither of us could figure out how to launch the grenades without getting killed. Blood splattered everywhere. We gave up and went for it, dashing through brambles toward the makeshift hut.

Once inside, there he was. Steve, the diplomat, known only to us by his dossier. He was scraggly and unkempt. He thanked us profusely as we untied him and made for the river. Suddenly on a boat, we were shot at from all angles by men on all types of watercraft. With Uzis. And barricades for their Uzis. These guys were prepared!

All seemed lost. Bari managed to take out a few speedboats before sucumbing to the cold water. Steve was dead. We had failed the mission. After 10$ each in quarters we were tired and sweaty from the dramatics, and plus, I don't like guys named Steve anyway, so no big loss.

That my friends, is life in Tom Clancy's Ghost Recon.

So...in answer to all your queries, the matador photo was from D&B (Dave and Busters)- for those who don't know, that's an adult Chuck-E-Cheese. They have silly photo booths, 80's arcade games like PacMan and Centipede, and really scary games-that-kids-should-not-play like Ghost Recon. All with booze.

And there's nothing quite like playing Centipede while buzzed. But it doesn't improve the hand-eye coordination, I can tell you that. I swear the stupid ball was slow.

I also got a blister while playing Ms Pac Man. I got to level 3, which I couldn't do in the 80's originally... so there's always that to console my bandaged index finger. And there were some little kids that stood behind me to watch those interstitials - where Ms PacMan and PacMan finally have their baby delivered by a stork. I felt vindicated and cool. But the kids went on to play Dance Dance Revolution. I would have too, except exercise defeats the whole point of eating BBQ chicken tenders and playing video games.

Bari's skill at shoot-em-up games was impressive, but I got almost double the tickets. I'm saving up for the disco light and stuffed Spongebob.

Maybe I'll save Steve the diplomat next time. Or maybe I'll go the Air Force One mission and save the President instead and leave Steve in the jungle. That'll teach him... I mean Bari died to save his sorry ass. Stupid Congo.