PITTSBURGH - Ex-paintball warrior Jingo Bang awakens screaming every night, drenched in cold sweat. "Every night it's the same thing," said the 38-year old accountant. "I'm in the woods with my buddies, trying to capture the flag. It starts out fine. But then my teammates are gone, and I'm alone in the middle of a field." Bang clutches the arms of the chair with a death grip. "Then I'm surrounded. The enemies' guns are tricked out, firing hot, and I'm lit up something fierce. The shooting's so heavy, I can't move, and my mask is caked with paint." Tears stream down Bang's face and he breathes rapidly. "I raise my hands and yell, 'Fogged! Fogged!' but the referee's in cahoots with the other team and nobody comes over. Just when I figure I'm about to die, I jolt myself awake. And then I spend the day dreading what's going to happen when I fall asleep."Dr. Bradleys Roadhouse, founder of the Long Island Paintball Stress Clinic and a paintball veteran himself, says that Bang's experience is typical of many he hears every day. "Do you think it's a coincidence that the word 'paint' is almost identical to 'pain'?" Dr. Roadhouse asked.
Dr. Roadhouse points to a large corridor filled with paintball vets lying in beds. "Shamefully, America has turned its back on these brave men, despite all they've done for us," said Roadhouse. "Every weekend paintball warriors are out there putting their clean clothes on the line, risking getting paint all over themselves. And this is the thanks they get," he shakes his head. "It disgusts me."
Dr. Roadhouse is spearheading a drive to enact Federal legislation that would to prohibit discrimination in hiring, promoting or laying off paintball veterans solely on the basis of their paint-stained clothes. "That's the least these heroes deserve," said Dr. Roadhouse.
