Shoot Me Now

My boyfriend took me shooting yesterday and well, it was an experience. Actually, I was surprised at my own reaction: I wound up sort of, um ... crying.

I know. Crying at a gun range. I felt like such a girl.

I've shot guns before - only once, though, and that afternoon was a) over a year ago, and b) at a mostly-deserted outdoor range in the middle of Nowheresville, VA. This was at an indoor range, and there were people around and guns going off left and right.

All the shots in the other lanes were LOUD, and I jumped a lot even while we were just setting up. I think that sort of unnerved me. Then, when my boyfriend had me load the pistol magazine, I couldn’t get the bullets in.

Like, really, hands? You're that weak? Answer: yes. It took me three minutes to load two bullets, and my boyfriend had to do the rest. By then I was frustrated with myself and embarrassed that I was so ineffective at freaking loading a magazine that my confidence went out the window. Not the best way to start shooting a deadly weapon, you know?

The CZ-82: unmoved by my tears

So by the time the bullets are all in the magazine, tears are leaking from my eyes and I'm trying to swipe them away surreptitiously but I'm wearing safety glasses and can't take them off, so it's kind of hard, and I'm trying not to think of what all the men on the range must think of me, this silly girl crying.

Anyway, I get myself sort of under control while my boyfriend shoots his first set, and then it's my turn.

Have I mentioned how terrified I was? It didn't make much sense--we were at a range and everything was pretty darn safe. Intellectually I knew that. But it didn't matter - I was terrified, and horribly embarrassed to be so.

So there I am, staring at the empty pistol and trying desperately to a) not freak out, and b) remember what the hell I'm supposed to do first. My boyfriend (he is patient, and amazing) goes through the directions with me again, and prompts me when I fling, "Holy crap tell me what to do PLEASE," looks over my shoulder.

And so I pick up the gun and load the magazine and put the safety on and get my sight picture and my boyfriend corrects my grip and stance and grip again, and then the safety is off and it is time to shoot.

I aim, and take a breath and let it out, and slowly squeeze the trigger. BANG! The pistol leaps in my hand, and a little hole appears in the target downrange. OH GOD, I DID IT! I am so relieved, but then I realize I have to do it again, and the terror hasn't abated. At all.

The magazine holds twelve bullets. My hands are shaking by the third. It's sort of hard to aim with shaking hands, FYI (I was more concerned with not embarrassing myself than with the bulls-eye, but I actually didn't do too badly.) Also, I'm sweating--ahem--bullets; my armpits are dripping and my back is soaking through my shirt, but I can't take off my hoodie because the long sleeves protect my arms from flying brass.

I can't tell you how glad I was to hand the gun over when I was done. My whole body was trembling. I was soaked in sweat. My cheeks were covered in tears, because they kept leaking from my eyes as I shot that pistol no matter how much I told myself not to be a scaredy-cat.

The P-64  is Polish, which might explain the language.

I mean, crying? I don't know what happened to me. But my boyfriend didn't say a word about it, just calmly gave instructions, and had me work on loading another magazine while he took his next turn.

The second time I loaded the magazine, I got nearly all the bullets in before asking my boyfriend to load the last couple (my hands need toughening for sure). And the second time I shot I didn't cry, though I was still shaking like crazy by the end. We worked on not letting the pistol buck in my grip, and my boyfriend praised me for everything I did right, and told me I was doing great, and corrected my stance (lean forward) and my grip and my stance again. We shot a CZ82 and a little P64 and then an AK47 rifle, and by the end ... I wasn't confident, exactly, but I was able to shoot without feeling like I'd shatter.

By the time I shot the AK-47, I was doing much better!

I was glad to leave the range, I'll admit. But I want to go back next week! I can tell I'll love shooting once I get used to it. Before I go back, though, I need to strengthen my arms (rifles are freaking heavy!) and practice loading a magazine, because I'm still pretty pathetic at it.

I'm sure there is a writing metaphor in here somewhere, right? The terror, sweating and tears? The being terrible at first, but getting better with practice? lol. 

What's the last thing you did that scared the crap out of you but you did anyway?

Querying counts!