Murder by the Euros

My buddy Spot and I have made a morning ritual at 8 am. After seeing Steph off to work, meditating for 15 minutes and eating breakfast, I promptly plop my butt infront of the TV and turn the Xbox on. Likewise, 600 miles away in a small house in San Francisco, Spot wakes up from his alarm set to 8 am, meanders onto the chair in front of his TV and turns on his Xbox.

We both listen to the choir like chorus of Halo 2 as it boots up.

Yes, every morning Spot and I frag our way through countless (probably around 30 so far) games of Xbox Live Halo encounters. Team slayer, team hardcore, team snipers, team training (see a theme here?) - we play it all and rise through the ranks. It's absolutely glorious as we backstab, assassinate, snipe and otherwise steal the other team's flag. Oh the flag - it's so... flappy.

But this morning the glory was outshined by our own death and destruction. We faced Swedes, Germans and possibly the Swiss. I don't know really - white people all look and sound the same to us asians.

I think one game of team slayer (kill each other) ended with 30 pts to 7. That was painful. Spot and I are consoling each other in our losses... I'm just glad they didn't hump our bleeding dead bodies in Halo as final insult.

In fact, I have to admit they were quite polite about it all (the euros). After defeating us soundly, they all gave a polite "Good game" (equivalent to a pat on the back or a hand shake and a stout "jolly ol' time, my good man" kind of statement). That might be only english phrase they knew - most of the time I heard crazy "ein stadt guten... oops! fraggen hazn mein... esenzn guten job!".

One has to wonder if that's what the euro's are like in real war:

*blam blam blah*
death?
blam
death
Good game!

I wonder who I will face tomorrow - perhaps some nuke happy North Koreans (equivalent to a player with a full load of plasma grenades and rocket launchers)?