After an intense concert and high speed giraffe hand off last night, I was hoping to spend my Sunday watching football and stuffing myself. Danny Lustman(lifetime neighbor, now living with us) had other plans in store. I wake up to the sound of knocks and "Zacky, let's go shootin' today!"..."Wuh?" "Don't make me cannonball on that bed, let's go shootin, you got 5 minutes!"
Now normally I'd say the last thing I want to do before noon the day after a concert is anything besides stuff myself and watch football, but my inner male really got the best of me. Shooting shit sounded very appealing today. So I get myself out of bed and I think, what do you wear to go shooting? I went with my camo pants, and then I stumbled on my 'Ireland' T-shirt, and I knew I couldn't go wrong there. As I was marching out of the garage, I found my Call of Duty/Fidel Castro hat, and there was really no other choice at that point.
Danny and I grabbed some lunch and made off for Revere Gun Range just off Copans. We march in, and we're assigned lanes 1 & 2. At this point I'm giddy. There's guns EVERYWHERE, the guy behind the counter had three teeth, and the place was completely un-airconditioned. I knew we'd come to the right place. "What kinda target you want?" Danny asked, and I looked. There was Osama, a black target, and a circly one. "I'll take the black guy" I said, and immediately began giggling. No one noticed. Danny came armed with a .9mm and a 'forty'. After some very basic instructions('Always keep yer weaponry pointed downrange'), I was soon handed a loaded pistol(the .9) and given a target about 10-15 feet away(your guess is as good as mine really).
I lifted the weapon. It was heavier than my controller like in Call of Duty, but then again, I don't have the rumble pack. "You've been training you whole life for this" I told myself aloud. Years and years of FPS training ran through my head, I pointed the weapon at my black target. I lined up the sights with my left eye, just like CoD4, shut the right, and fired. The noise was damn loud, but I was wearing my headphone thingies. I look downrange, my shot hit the 8-ring, on the upper left side of my black man. I lined up again. Fired. 9-ring, bottom right. Lined up for the third time, fired, and just like in the movies, bulls eye. Right under the X in the chest. Danny patted me on the back. "Damn son!" A grin stretched the length of my face.
After a few clips of the .9, Danny handed me the 'glock forty'. I'm not sure what the exact significance of the 'forty' aspect compared to the .9, other than the fact that it's louder, heavier, and more powerful. I line up the 40 and shoot downrange. It's got a lot more kick back. Danny hands me a box of bullets. Now this is where I find my first problem in gun handling. I couldn't get the damn bullets in the clip. I'm pretty sure I've already developed arthritis. It was a struggle. I developed various techniques that didn't help me at all. I later found out that if you just convince yourself you're about to be shot, you at least move faster, if not more efficiently.
My second problem in gun handling came in user error. Apparently, if you slack your wrist while shooting, the bullet can get lodged in the chamber and jam. I solved the problem easily by ejecting the clip and reloading, but it was damn annoying, because it happened a bunch of times, until Danny's friend(who met up with us) diagnosed the problem, but by that time the 40 was out of my hands.
Anyways, I did my time with the 40, but I really did my better work with the .9. Danny set me up with an Osama sheet. I stared him down. He was sporting an AK-47u. Maybe there is something to be said for those people who say videogames accustoms youths to violence.
No time to worry about that...
I did some mean head shots. I was a little disappointed no one called out "headshot" whenever I got one, but the feeling satisfying none the less. I played around with the distance of the target, I didn't miss a body shot from at least 30 feet, I'd say.
After about 400 rounds of spent ammunition, Danny and I called it a day and packed his bag full of guns and left. I kept my two black man sheets, and brought the home to show my mom. She was very pleased. s a matter of fact, I haven't seen her smile like that in awhile. Sick mindedness clearly runs rampant in my family. I brought the sheets upstairs, taped them to my wall, took pictures, then tagged all my friends in the various bullet holes after I uploaded them on facebook.
All and all, I'd say I'm very pleased with my brief foray into shooting make believe black people and terrorists.
No comments:
Post a Comment