Although this past Saturday was not quite as exciting as auditioning for Family Feud (because seriously, what could possible top that?), I’m pleased to announce that I checked off another bucket list item – learning to shoot a hand gun.
See, ever since my addiction to young-adult dystopias began (and because I constantly overhear Walking Dead recaps from my kids), I’ve wanted to ensure I’m not the token chick who dies in the first chapter/episode/ten minutes of the apocalypse. Essentially, I vowed to become a badass. To that end, I had my husband Doo teach me to fire a shotgun and made taking a pistol class one of my 2014 New Year’s Resolutions. Yes, 2014. I’m a bit behind.
I registered for a “Ladies Only”, one-day course, taught by a Tom Selleck-y looking guy passionate about our 2nd Amendment rights. Interestingly, I was the only woman out of seven who did not bring her own gun or appropriate ear protection. Apparently everyone else was already a badass. We spent several hours learning the basics – safety, mechanics, safety, appropriate vocabulary, safety, ballistics and lest we forget, safety – then headed out to the range. Tom assigned me a “1911 45 with a 22 conversion” (I think I wrote that right) and proceeded to instruct me on two firing positions, the Isosceles (a math term, finally!) and the Weaver, creatively named after Mr. Weaver, its inventor. Then he handed over the weapon and let me at it.
First task, loading the cartridges (not bullets, cartridges!). I struggled until I was informed I was trying to put them in backwards. Oops. Next up, closing the slide. Huh? Oh, that little button? Right. Finally, aim and shoot. Fifty rounds at a target a whopping 10 feet (maybe less) from me. To my surprise, I actually hit the bull’s-eye several times and put everything else just below while keeping both eyes intact. Bottom line, I’m confident I could stop a zombie, alien or killer teen.
All I need now is a Family Feud victory, and my rise to bad-assdom will be complete!
Peace out. (Until the apocalypse.)