Old Folk vs Young Hooligans

I found myself at the Base Shotgun range again this weekend. Little did I know that the that the shotgun club on the base appeared to be just as bad as the Tucson Trap and Skeet Club. As my dad and I roll up on scene we only see three field to shoot on and all are full. Nightmare. Not that I don't like shooting with people, I just prefer to do it by myself, especially since I have a quite controversial gun and I'm not that good at it since I started the whole trap and Skeet thing 6weeks ago. To make matter worse, there is only one Trap field, which has a full party shooting and more people waiting to shoot.

After we go through the hassle of figuring out where to buy the rounds at and all the stupid safety questions by the people working the booth (Yes I do actually know where the danger end is!), we go over to the Trap field and try to make some friends.

Surprisingly most of the people didn't need their walkers to walk to the shooting stations. And most of them were fairly easy to talk to once you dropped in on whatever they were talking about.

After talking to the "Gentlemens Club" (and thats not because they were young whippersnappers who chased after women) we went back to our truck to pull out our two shotguns. Given that I have a shotgun made for killing people in tiny rooms and my dads is actually semi made for this sport, most of them flocked to look at my gun and proceed to inform me that "You won't be hitting shit with that." I was walking back to the truck to get ammo when I heard this. Since this is my new baby I turn around to see who is so incredibly doubtful of my skills...CAPTAIN AMERICA, in the flesh, minus American Flag headband. I thought of many quick comebacks to say such as "are you really talking to the guy whose shotgun is made to kill people" or "Ya grab your walker old man I'll see you on the field" I remembered that my dad was within earshot and would promptly shoot me with my own shotgun if I said that, so I said nothing and walked back to the truck.

After figuring out who is doing what I snatch up my dads shotgun and head out with for the first round. Of course being so incredibly new to this whole game I am shoving ammo in every pocket in my jacket since I have no snazzy vest thing or hip holster like everyone else does, and the old men are now waiting on me... embarrassing.

Of the 5 shooting stations the first four are taken, I'll shoot last since I am not given an option. Heading out there and fussing in my pockets for shells while people starting yelling variation of Pull (you yell PULL and the guy pressing the button which causes the machine to fire out the clay pigeon). these variations in "PULL" to "PUUUAAAAAAAAAA" and the funniest of the group "PUUUUUUUU." So after hearing all these I probably have the stupidest look on my face as the entire "Gentlemens Club" stares at me. PULL! BOOM! Vaporized that little clay bastard. Touche Gentlemen.

25 Birds in a round and 5 shooting stations. Shoot five birds and move to the next station.

After the first two stations and 100 percent hit rate. I move to the third station and fucked it all up. Missed 4 out of 5 on this station. But I can see that I already showed them what a Boss I am. In the end of round 1 I was 17 out of 25. Not to bad for being pretty damn sick, tired and coughing like I have been smoking for 80 years.

Round two was 19 our of 25.

After this round everyone left except one guy who was clearly a pro. So pro that he had ear protection that connected to his Ipod which he kept in one of his many pockets in his fancy shooting vest, purple glasses, and some weird shell holder that looked like he could take on most of the world in a zombie invasion. He had been talking to my dad while I was out on the field. they were basically Best Friends for Life (BFFL) at this point.

He offered two be the Puller (guy who pushes button) for a round while my dad and I shoot against each other if we pull one for him. Of course we agreed.

On said round I shot a solid 7 out of 25 with my shotgun designed for people while my dad did much better. I blame this drop in accuracy as to shooting a different gun without warm up.

We pull one for him and he actually let me shoot his (at least) 3,000 dollar gun for his last two birds. He gave me three rounds. As he was yelling at me about how he loaded these shells himself and since I had ear protection on and didn't fully understand how to work said weapon, the only words I picked up from his rant were "BIG" and "RECOIL." I put those two words together with the full understanding when I pull the trigger I'm going to blow my shoulder off and drop his gun. So here we go, PULL! boom! Ya it was like shooting the bolt action .22 we have. So with my ridiculous flinch I wildly missed the bird. "YOU MISSED IT!" In my head I'm saying "Thanks boss, I noticed." As he hands me round number two and I fumble it into the gun he says "IT"S NOT GONNA HURT AT ALL SON" Once again in my head "Thanks, I'm aware."

I vaporized the next two. Always end it on a good note.

Point here is Old people don't think the young kids know what they are doing. Boy did I show them wrong. Minus the one round were I was at a 28 percent hit ratio...Glad I get to work on that this Saturday.