She's armed and dangerous!!

It's no secret that I'm a liberal. I have noticed that I'm becoming a bit more moderate with age, but I'm still definitely on the left side of the spectrum.
In regards to guns, I've always been a proponent of gun control. I firmly believe that it is a privilege, not a right to own a gun. Much the same as I believe it is a privilege to have a driver's license, donate blood or buy explosives. I even remember crafting my first persuasive speech in 8th grade english class in support of tougher gun control. Yes, I was liberal at a tender young age. I managed to make it to my mid-30s without so much as laying my finger on a real gun (not counting the BB gun my brother and I had as children) and I have never had the desire to own or wield a gun. Imagine my shock when I married a gun person.

Not just a gun person, but one fully license/authorized/whatever the terminology is, to carry a concealed gun! I don't get it, but it has something to do with living south of the Mason-Dixon line.

Early in our marriage, we took a road trip and he had the loaded gun in the car. It freaked me out the whole time and I kept thinking that somehow it was going to discharge and shoot me as I helplessly sat in the passenger seat. (Yes, my fear is that irrational.) In the house, one is kept loaded and easily accessible for home defense purposes ... or to shoot random yard zombies. I know where it's kept and I avoid it like the plague because just the sight of the holster makes me uncomfortable. It actually became a bit of a joke because I am known for my habit of eating any and all sweets in the house. Bryan had some candy sent to him by my Mom and he hid it. When I asked where, he said "somewhere I know you'll NEVER look." Turns out he hid it next to the gun, an excellent place because even my insatiable sweet tooth would never encourage me to look there.

Despite my fears, I am a rational person. I know that if a loaded gun is going to live in my house, it is foolish for me to be ignorant about its operation. We talked long ago about how I need to go to the shooting range and learn to shoot. Both of us agree that it would be best for me to learn from someone else and our friend Merc agreed. She seemed a logical choice as an ex-Marine who is quite comfortable pumping lead into targets of all sorts. Sidenote: I was really shocked the first time I met her. She was wearing cute high heels and looked ... well feminine. Truthfully I was picturing someone more masculine and more intimidating. (Apologies to all cute Marines or military women who read my blog)

Anyway, we finally made a date to shoot. Bryan thought it would be best for me to shoot the 9mm Glock - something about less force required to pull the trigger? Anyway, prior to meeting Merc, he sat me down at the kitchen table and showed me how to load and unload the magazine ... or is it cartridge? or clip? I don't know my gun terms.

He had Gremlin on his lap as we sat around the table with the bullets and the bullet holding thing (gun not present) and I protested,

"It's not safe! He shouldn't be around bullets!"

Bryan assured me that the bullets can't go off on their own.

"Are you sure???"

"Yes."

I still wasn't comfortable and I preferred to have the scary unloaded projectiles pointing away from me and Gremlin. Apparently in reality the biggest threat to Gremlin would have been for him to swallow the shiny bullets as apparently they can't spontaneously combust, even if dropped on the floor. Who knew?

After loading and unloading the bullet holder thing several times, he showed me what was putting in the gun bag: gun, ear plugs, shooting glasses, projectile bullets of death, and off we went.

We were originally going to shoot outdoors but the outdoor range was closed so we headed to an indoor one. Have I ever mentioned how I hate loud noises? And how it's ridiculous how easily I get startled?? Yeah, this was why they had originally thought I would do better outdoors.

We arrived at the gun place and Merc gave me a quick How to Shoot Guns 101 in the lobby. Luckily there are very few buttons on the particular gun I was shooting and you can only jam the bullet holder thing in one way. Apparently the whole process is quite simple - load gun, point gun at target, line up the little white dot with the white box thing, and pull the trigger. Confident in my ability to do all of these tasks we entered the shooting area.

First of all, even with the ear protection, I internally jumped every time someone shot their gun. It was loud and I could feel it.
I didn't like it.
I loaded my gun while Merc put the target in place for me. I went over all the directions in my head .... feet shoulder width apart, shoulders slightly forward, make a triangle with my arms, good grip with my shooting hand, wrap the other one around, raise the gun, sight my target. I went through these motions several times and finally squeezed back the trigger.

BAM!

I saw a flash and felt the discharge. I had absolutely no idea where my bullet had gone, but I had gotten off my first shot. Now I knew what it would feel like. I got myself steadied and did the whole thing again. This time I nearly jumped out of my skin when the bullet casing flew out and hit my shoulder (I wasn't expecting that!) It spooked me a little and I had to set the gun down and collect myself.

In the meantime, Merc said, "Did you see where those went??"

"No."

I assumed they had flown into the ceiling or into a sidewall.

She pushed the button to bring the target in and to my shock, two neat little bullet holes were nearly on top of each other in the center part of the target.

Wow! I actually hit the damn thing!

I shot three clips into the center of the target, one clip into the head for fun. (See how guns have already started to screw with my brain?!!???!) and the last one Merc had me shoot as quickly as I could while retaining some sense of accuracy. All in all, I did pretty well. All of my bullets hit the target, and most hit right where I was aiming. I found that I started to overly anticipate the discharge so I would close my eyes at the last second which I assume is not recommended when being attacked by zombies. Those were the ones that dropped and hit the target a few inches down from where I was aiming but were still in a pretty lethal position.

In the end, I have to say it was a bit fun but exhausting. I kept having internal freak outs which required me to step back and take a few breaths. It was a very similar feeling to when I rock climb, I can stay on task when focused on the wall, but I flip out when I realize how high up I've climbed.

I do have a much better comfort level with the gun and know that in an emergency I can put a bunch of lead in the bad guy's chest quite accurately from 20 feet. I do need to shoot some more, but it was a great start.

I went from being afraid to look at the gun and fearing that the bullets alone would leap off the table and kill me, to pumping 50 rounds into a helpless paper target.

To quote my friend Mary, "I think that living in Arkansas is getting to (me)."