Glock, stock, and barrel

(Picture on left: Marked bullet holes are the ones I fired...some of the other holes could have been my dad or me).

While visiting my family in Florida last week, I had the privilege of experiencing something I have never experienced before....shooting a gun. I had no idea what to expect, thus I kept my expectations to a bare minimum. This was the best possible mindset for me to have, especially since I know myself well enough to know that if I thought about it too much, I might freak myself out to a point where I would change my mind about following through with the bold (for me) undertaking. The United States seems to have such a cavalier attitude towards guns, that to most people shooting a gun may not sound like that big of a deal. Not for me though.

Although it has always been "normal" for me to see my Dad carrying a gun when we'd be out and about (he's a cop), I have had a very standoffish and slightly fearful attitude towards guns. I didn't like them and never even considered using one! I'm not sure what changed my mind, perhaps my unquenchable and curious thirst for new experiences. I like pushing past my comfort zones and challenging my perceptions, especially when it comes to proving myself wrong. Yes, I am that rare human specimen who would rather be proven wrong than right. Call me crazy, but I get satisfaction from being reminded that the human imagination can conjure up some real doozies that most times aren't reflective of reality. For instance, we humans have a way of thinking the worst possible scenario or making inaccurate assumptions. Prior to my experience of having shot a gun, my mind created images of me accidentally shooting myself or freaking out that I could unintentionally hurt someone else, drop the gun, get hit by others in the range....and this was me fantasizing at the bare minimum! Imagine what I could have conjured up in my mind if I had REALLY thought about it. With that said, my motto (as much as possible in life) is "Feel the fear and do it anyway"(also the title of a psych/self-help book, fyi)....so I did it. :)

First came the gun instruction with Dad. We sat on his couch in the living room and he showed me his .40 Glock. He showed me how to load the bullets, told me a little bit about the mechanics, and told me I needed to say "I got it" when he handed the gun over to me (safety precaution). He also showed me the proper way to hold the gun when in shooting mode, as well as posture. Knees should be slightly bent and according to Dad, "It should be a surprise" to hear the gun go off if you pull back on the trigger with the padded tip of the index finger ever so slowly.

Seeing as it was the day after July 4th, the Shoot Straight gun range was pretty dead inside (yeah, bad pun, huh? haha). This was fine by me considering having more people around might have heightened my anxiety. We walked into the place and there were guns everywhere. Teeny tiny size guns, medium sized handguns, and shotguns. There were also lots of dead animal heads on the wall. Again, such a thing would have bothered me in the past, but I was open-minded to experiencing something out of my usual realm of comfort and understanding.

Dad and I approached the counter to "check-in," meaning we had to sign our names on a sheet with the time. I laughed when I saw the three options of gun target pages hanging behind the counter: the standard human body silhouette outline, one that had smiley/sad faces, and this is what got a chuckle out of me....a laughing zombie. Not your average run of the mill looking zombie, but a laughing zombie. Those gun folks sure do have a sense of humor! Even though I was tempted to get the zombie target paper, I was intent on taking this new experience seriously...mainly because I really wanted to know how skilled I would be at something that I barely just learned from Dad's brief gun instruction "lesson." I went with the body outline.

Before heading back to the area where the shooting happens, I was told that I needed "eyes and ears." I put on the plastic glasses and ear muffs. Dad and I walked through the double doors of the target practice area. There must have been about 8-10 "stations" where people could go to stand and shoot, though only half were occupied. Bullet casings filled the floors around us, the temperature in the room oppressively hot. Dad took out the contents of his gun bag: Glock, magazines (for those not in the know, that is what you load the bullets into and then load into the gun), and bullets. I was starting to get really nervous. This was really about to happen, no backing out now. I had to rise to the challenge, no matter how scared I was starting to feel. Dad told me I could change my mind and stop at any time if I wanted to, but I didn't want to give in to my fear of the unknown.

I approached the mini gun 'counter' and focused my eyes on the target 21 feet ahead of me. I concentrated on doing everything exactly the way Dad told me to do to the best of my ability. As you can see, I did pretty well. Although my arms were a bit shaky at times from nervousness, 60 rounds later I left with a feeling of accomplishment. Once again, I have surprised myself at being able to do something I had not previously fathomed I was capable of doing. My dad repeatedly told me I did well for it being my first time with a gun. I thought maybe he was exaggerating or just saying so to be nice, until he told me that some fellow cops he knows are poor shooters/too cocky to learn how to shoot a gun well.

I can't say shooting a gun was "fun" per se, nor can I say with certainty whether I will shoot a gun ever again. What I do know is that it definitely wasn't what I expected, in the best possible "prove me wrong"kind of way.