Ready, Aim, Fire!!!

So, my first experience at shooting a gun was...well...scary! Fun, but scary!!! And, of course, I have a story to tell :)

After 6 hours of classroom time, learning the laws for carrying a Concealed Handgun for the great state of Texas, we headed off to the shooting range. There were about 20 of us, and everyone knew that this would be my first time...I was a 'shooting virgin' and proud of it! My stomach was in my throat and I was nervous as all get out, but if I was going to finish what I'd started (and why wouldn't I?), I was going to have to enter the shooting range, load up and pull the trigger.

My father, the instructor, was there by my side, talking me through the whole thing; giving me pointers, explaining how the gun worked (since it was his), loading the cartridges for me, etc. He was nothing but encouraging, but also busy helping others in the room with us. We had 5 stalls, which meant that 5 of us could shoot at the same time. Each stall was divided by a concrete wall/barrier which gave us all our own space, and prevented everyone else's shells hitting you from all sides. In my mind, it was my own little privacy fence, preventing anyone from staring at me while I fought through my nerves.

My hubby, Michael, stood behind me, cheering me on, encouraging me to focus, breath, and relax. I'd love to say that his encouragement was helpful, but the only part I think I actually did was the breathing part. I knew that if I held my breath, I would eventually pass out, so I made sure to take a few deep breaths, in between shots. My sister stood nearby him, saying the same encouraging things, and telling me "you can do it!" (sort of like the guy in The Waterboy, but without the funky accent).

As my dad gave the command to 'step forward' I think I tuned everything else out because I knew that I would either need to completely focus on the thing I was about to do, or give up and walk away. I really wanted to shoot and 'conquer my fear', but my fear was getting the best of me...so I hesitated. The next command was "raise your weapon", which I did without hesitation because I knew I could do this. "Fire when ready" was the last thing I remember. I slowly focused the line of sight as we had been instructed to do, then jumped! The gun next to me fired and it scared the be-jeezus at out of me. It took me a second, but I focused the sight again and pulled the trigger. I imitated this same step 9 more times, emptying the clip, as instructed. The results? I hit the target every time!!! I was so excited that I did a little dance :)

Dad came back over, gave an encouraging smile, then loaded the clip again. He again gave us our firing instructions (since we had a certain pattern we were to follow within an alloted amount of time), then gave us our commands. I fired 10 more bullets and hit the target every single time.

But, of course, that's not the part that any of you would find interesting, is it? There is absolutely no humor in the above story. The humor began after the 2nd round of firing.

One of several things that I was not prepared for were the flying shells that are discarded with each shot. I knew that they would fly out, but I had assumed that they would simply fly out side-ways and land on the ground. It just never dawned on me that the stupid things would come out at me! About every 3rd shot I made, a shell would come flying out toward my chest, and inevitably go straight down my shirt. Did I mention how hot they are as they are expelled from the chamber? I actually got pretty good at flipping them out before they were able to go too far 'down', but there was 1 time that I missed. The stupid thing went into my shirt, then fell all the way down to my stomach, where it rested for a few seconds, scalding me.

Funny how we react to pain, regardless of whether there is a loaded gun in our hand or not!

I immediately jumped backward, doing a jig trying to get the shell out of my shirt, all while brandishing a loaded weapon in all directions. My dad & Michael both started ducking & yelling at me to 'put the gun down!', which I immediately did. And let me insert a note here that my finger was not on the trigger - I had indexed it, as we had been instructed to do for other reasons. Never-the-less, I felt like a total idiot, but was thankful that the shell was now laying on the floor. And, I'm not 100% sure, but I think that Michael might have wet his pants as he did his best to get away from me.

I quickly regained my composure, finished shooting the rounds I needed to, then did my happy dance that it was all finally over with. My dad brought my target in and checked it, announcing with a smile "You Passed!". And, here's my proof:

And, in case you're wondering - and really, why wouldn't you be? - I passed the written exam with a 100% (compared to Michael's piddly 92%) and am now able to send in my paperwork to receive my Concealed Handgun License!

Hooray for the 2nd Amendment :)

*And, notice that I took out the jugular and the crotch of my pretend perpetrator :) Personally, I think 'center mass' is a little over-rated :)