As gunshots crack on the range, the safety guy preps me and Monica. “Ever been here before?” Nope. “Ever shot before?” Nope. Not really. Monica resists telling him about her Texas upbringing and the time a friend’s dad took her and her friend shooting as kids. “Ever spent any time around guns?” Nope! “Well, we’ll start with the basics then…”
LivingSocial is, of course, responsible for this. When the website offers its buttoned-down, yoga-taking, happy-hour-drinking, Starbucks-and-the-Starbucks-and-the-Starbucks urbanite audience a chance to shoot a gun, who am I to decline? I live in America. We can debate if America is the land of the gun. But America is most surely the land of the deal.
My kind of joke: A sign about magazine loading on the magazine table. Shooting a gun turns out to be easier than I thought. Shooting safely also turns out to be easier than I thought. I’m a klutz, but the process makes not shooting yourself in the foot easy. Hooray! The deal gets us earmuffs, glasses, a box of ammo, and the gun — a Glock 19. (Counter guy: “What kind of gun do ya want?” Me: “What do you recommend?”)
The safety guy explains how to load and hold the gun, how the target works and what to expect when firing. We set the target 25 feet off. I get the first two shots. Then Monica gets two. Safety guy gives me an early tip on straightening my aim, but otherwise we’re off to the races. No weird adrenaline rushes, no newbie issues. Safety guy is pleased.
The video portion of our program…
Monica goes back for a second case of ammo. Counter guy, as Monica tells it: “Good day to be out here!” Monica, confused and glancing at the cloudy weather outside: “I guess so!” Counter guy: “No, with the Supreme Court gun ruling!” Bound to help the business? This blog, as usual, holds no politics. This blog only loves LivingSocial and days off.
After running through our two ammo boxes, we sweep up our casings, retrieve our poor target, scrub the black off our fingers, and turn in our equipment. We take photos in the Silver Eagle Group’s parking lot with the target. Monica gives the target a decent name, but I forget it. The full pictures turn out too detachedly Bonnie-and-Clyde for posting here.
We drive back from Ashburn and stop for drinks at On the Border. We leave our target face-up in the back seat and order the big margaritas. We discuss dating, weekends, work, and what it was like to fire a gun.