I recently visited my friend, Kvothe, in our nation’s great capital. I was there over July 4th, and I figured what better way to celebrate another year of freedom in this great country of ours than by learning to shoot a weapon.
Nothing says “happy birthday USA” quite like a rim shot from a revolver, and that’s exactly what I gave her. (I didn’t want to give her a gift that she would return, like a sweater or the new Justin Beiber album).
My friend Kvothe (not her real name), is from Pennsylvania, which makes her super cool and not a Quaker. Seriously, I can’t emphasize enough that she is not a Quaker.
Kvothe’s father, Jack Byrnes (not his real name), is apparently quite the marksman. He holds several national records for shooting and although he adamantly denies it, I’m pretty sure he’s in the CIA…or at least a contract killer. Based upon this reason alone, I was super nice to him (and slept with my door locked).
I told him I would love to learn to shoot guns. I considered asking him if I could dress up like a gansta for the shooting session but thought better of it. I didn’t know if his experience as an obvious trained assassin would put me in jeopardy with this type of clothing. (Jack Byrnes swears he works with computers, but his sharpshooting skills suggest otherwise.)
The morning of the lesson we sat down with different guns and went over how each gun shoots, what kind of bullets are used and how to operate them safely. Yeah, like we really need to go over safety. I think we know I’m not that big of a liability for disaster. Wait…maybe it was a good idea.
After we went over all the features of the weapons, we headed out to the shooting range. It was in a secluded area and as we drove out in Jack Byrnes’ mini van (yes, a mini van…to keep us off the scent of his real job), I considered for a brief moment that perhaps he had a contract out on my life and this was the end for me.
I would go out in a blaze of glory in a maroon Town and Country mini van with cloth seats and a “Who rescued who” bumper sticker on the back…just as I always pictured it. But then I realized that would be ridiculous because I’m far too awesome to want to “off.” I dismissed the thought and focused on the guns.
We arrived at the shooting range and the fun began immediately. I put on the sweet 80s headphones that were supposed to be for ear protection, but I think were really a throw back to DJ Jazzy Jeff. I fist pumped and sang a chorus of “Parents Just Don’t Understand” and then grabbed a gun.
At first I was a bit shy about shooting because I was scared of the kickback. The guns were powerful and I knew the kickback would be strong, but I didn’t know how strong. Jack Byrnes sensed my hesitation (probably because he’s trained to do so), and he told me to think about something that made me mad and then pull the trigger.
So many things irritate me. Long lines at Chipotle, bars that don’t serve Grey Goose and the entire cast of Glee ran through my mind.
That did it. I pulled the trigger and I never felt so alive! The kickback was strong but those stolen scones from the night before gave me the strength to handle it.
I shot again and again, getting better each time. After each round I went to the target (not the store) and was surprised to discover I actually wasn’t that bad of a shot. Immediately I texted my husband and told him to shape up or deal with my wrath. I’m sure he peed himself when he received it.
So all of you out there need to watch yourselves. Now that I’ve been trained by a marksman and alleged computer expert (but probable CIA agent), the sky is the limit for me.
So if you want to make fun of this blog, beware. (Although it would be a super easy target.) I may be packing heat at any time and just might work towards my Conceal and Carry license.