I feel like my mother doesn’t even know me.* I called her last weekend to tell her that I was going shooting and there was a long pause. Then, “Really?” Yes, really! And for those of you that live in the area and are concerned for your safety, let me assure you that I was not allowed within spitting distance of buildings or civilization.
Nope, just the wind and gunsmoke in my hair and targets before my eyes. Just me and my target. Ahem. In all fairness to my beloved mother before I get carried away, I better give a little background. I really haven’t gone shooting a lot. Okay, other than amusement parks and carnival games, I’ve only shot one other time. But I loved it. And clearly, I was destined to move forward in this quest. There’s nothing like trying to excel at something that’s so precise. Kind of like trying to organize my paper-piled desk. Or trying to make sense of Paula’s comments on American Idol.
My friend and boss, Tiffany offered to take me to the shooting range (which I mistakenly called the “driving range” more than once, even though I am also a poor golfer…) last weekend and I took her up on her offer. Here’s how our afternoon went.
1. Hat that I haven’t worn since high school to keep the sun off of my head? CHECK.
2. Ridiculous looking but very functional earmuff-y headphone-y things? CHECK. (btw, also useful for signaling the mother ship)
3. Learn safety and how to load the pistol? CHECK.
4. Finally discover why that car color is called “gun metal gray”? CHECKITY CHECK CHECK.
5. Execute extreme confidence and Jason Bourne like stance while shooting? CHECK. (My form couldn’t be faulted. I’d been taught by the best. Thanks, Jason!)
Tiffany and I took turns shooting. For my part, I hit the target most of the time. At such a distance away it was often hard to tell where those darn bullets went.
Me to Tiffany: “I’m going to aim for the top target on the left side.
Tiffany to me: “Okay.”
I take aim through the sight and do my darndest to be a straight shooter. True at the shooting range, true in life. Lessons for life, people.
Me to Tiffany: “Where’d it go??”
Tiffany to me: “No idea!”
Probably not the confidence-inducing comment you’d expect from a seasoned shooter, eh? Shootess? Well, there’s good reason for that. I’m not really a pro. I know that comes as a shock…it did to me.
All in all, I had a great time. Tiffany was a great teacher and I’m quite certain that the gun savvy people couldn’t tell that I was a major novice. It’s all about the street cred, after all.
Just to prove I really went and instill a little fear into my adversaries, here are some pictures from the day.
This is me loading the clip in the gun. Turns out, you can’t shoot it without this step. Well, you can. It just doesn’t really make the same sort of impact.
This is Tiffany. I pretty much learned everything I know about guns from her. And trust me when I say, if you are in a dark alley being attacked by a knife/gun wielding psycho-path you want HER by your side rather than me.
See all the holes?! I had something to do with that. See the bottom target with the red/orange center? The shot that nicked the center was mine! I’m fairly certain I was aiming that direction too!
Remember that game on the first Mario Brothers Nintendo game called “Duck Hunt”? Well, I rocked at that game, so I was fairly certain I would dominate here as well. It’s a LOT harder than it looks, which is, I suppose, why snipers get paid so much.