First to come to mind was the day I test-drove my friends brand new first gen Tac8 at a day of recball. I had a cRap4 magazine fed thing that I picked up to fiddle with that I brought along for giggles - he was a milsim'er and I figured he'd get a kick out of it. Somehow he convinced me to play a round "magfed only" (granted this was circa 2006 when that was not at all common) and gave me his brothers earpiece and walkie-talkie so I could communicate with him and his teammates.
Anyhow we were at Friendly Fire in Upton which has some very unique bunkers, and a small creek cutting across the middle that's maybe 5' across and 2' deep with about 4" of water at the bottom. I was behind a skinny tree just a few feet from that little stream when I dumped the the last 3 shots from my 18rd magazine towards the mask poking over the top of a bunker halfway up the hill on the other side. Another guy popped up up and started shooting my way, so I dove forward and crawled into the stream/gully to get some cover and reload.
At that point, I realized that my pack and all eight of the magazines I had shoved into the pod pouches were on a bench with the rest of my gear back in the staging area, under the watchful eye of my friends brother. That meant I was down to the Tac8 with its one magazine, and the two 12ies and two 10rd tubes attached to the holster (he hadn't figured out efficiency yet, or been able to source more magazines). I used the radio to check with my buddy and he said he was on the complete opposite side of the field with almost our entire team. Probably the most dumbass move I've ever pulled on the field - soaking wet with no teammates around and about 28 paintballs to my name.
Anyhow I loaded up the cRap4, fired two shots blindly, shoved the last two balls in and started crawling on my back as far down the creek as I could, getting more soaked as I went. I was about 30' away from my initial "splashdown" when one of the guys from the bunker jumped in and I lit him him up. Like a jerk, he yelled out to his buddy in the bunker that I was still in the creek while he walked off. I crawled even further along and popped up and saw his buddy crouched down and moving toward where he was hit, so I fired off the rest of the magazine and got him moving back up the hill past the bunker and towards the top. At that point I said screw it, dropped my marker and hauled *** up the hill and managed to hit him in the back by dumping the Tac 8 at him as he was climbing into the helicopter which served as a bunker up there.
So he starts shouting for a paint check with no refs near by, at which point a handful of his teammates who had been down on the other side of the field heard him, turned around started up the hill towards the chopper. Now completely out of paint, I booked it back down the hill back to get back to my marker and made it into the creekbed just in time for people to start shooting in my direction. About a minute or two later my buddy was able to chuck me a pod so I could pick through the broken paint and reload, but I was pinned in the creek firing blindly and watching the paint fly over me until the end of the game. From getting stuck in the creek initially to getting stuck in it the second time couldn't have been more than ten minutes.
Tournaments, scenarios, events and big games aside, that day of recball was probably the most fun I've had on a field. Probably the best paintball story I can remember too, especially as far as far as sharing with non-paintballers goes. I received mucho beer that once a ref confirmed that I had such a nutty run...