I would not have expected my liberal friend Dan, to own a shotgun, but he does. It turns out he's told me this several times, but I was either drunk or doing that selective hearing thing I do when people I like tell me scary things, like anything having to do with weapons or how they write code for spam email. But when he told me about it again, I said hey, I don't know how to do that. Can't go through life never firing a gun, right?
So after I promised not to make any hilariously apropos Dick Cheney jokes around the Republicans, we went to the shooting range I was walked through the basics of handling and firing a 12-gauge shotgun without falling over. And fall over I did not. And it was a rush! I giggled almost the entire time, and not just from the double entendres ('jack it hard,' etc.) It was the adrenaline, the high from holding something so powerful and feeling the rumble through my body when it went off and fire came out the end. The recoil wasn't what I expected it to be, but nevertheless I was sore in the arms and pink in the chest when I was through. In all it was pretty fun. Plus I liked the way the shells flew out when I cocked it. That was cool.
My aim was not bad, I'm told. The first ten or so shots landed on the belly and arms, as the weight of the gun was causing my posture to slump. But Dan yelled at me to stand up straight and aim for the head, and as you can see, the paper-man met his ultimate demise when I shot him in the neck.
Really, I'm surprised he agreed to take me at all, given this email exchange from Wednesday:
12:30 it is. I'll pick you up and we'll go from there.
Can we drink first or is that considered in bad form?
Jesus woman. No we can't drink before we handle a fucking gun. I hope you are kidding. We can drink afterwards. God I hope you are kidding.
I was totally kidding.