Me: "SD - be careful playing on those rocks. All I've got with me is Neosporin and bandaids. No needle and thread to sew you up."
Gunnie 1, offhand: "I've got a trauma kit, but I don't know how to use it."
Gunnie 2, helpfully: "I've got some Quick-Clot."
Gunnies are such helpful people.
So the range opens up and we get in line. And the crew grabs 3 lanes. I knew SD couldn’t shoot until she was seven, but I was hoping I could take her in and let her watch. Nope. Insurance regulations. Two different people offered to watch SD so I could get some trigger time in, and for that I am extremely grateful, but it wasn’t their job to babysit. Besides, you know how there’s always “That Guy” at the range? That was going to be me, today. I could feel it in my bones. The trip started with me leaving my pistol behind and having to go back and get it, and my gun handling skills did not improve as the morning went on. So, I got to meet a couple of new faces and stiff the group for the price of a target.
You see, SD really wanted to take a target home and so we picked one out. And the guy behind the counter wouldn’t sell it to me because it was too much trouble to ring up just one target. He insisted on adding it to your bill. And he wouldn’t let me leave money to pay for it. I know, I could have just put it back and let SD see this as a lesson in Jagger’s Law but I didn’t because I didn’t want to risk a temper tantrum. And I’m not talking about SD.
So, in closing, it was great to see familiar faces, and to meet new ones. I hope we can do it again sometime when I’m not “That Guy”. I’m sorry I didn’t get to say goodbye to y’all, and I owe you a target.