How to de-stress while on vacation, Part 1

Did anyone notice that I took a slight blogging break? I didn't think so. Good to know. Of course, I was with the majority of my audience anyway.

I just got back from a very brief journey out West to see the family for a momentous occasion, but more on that later. This, and some following entries, are all about how to de-stress while on vacation, after lots of time in airports, in the air, and with family. It involves Auntie Nettie using one of these: If you're a new reader and you stumble upon this, and you're anti-gun, don't read this post. I'm fine with that. I'm not taking a position one way or another. This entry is about how I dealt with some stress, learned about handgun safety, and how to potentially protect myself. It's not about Constitutional rights, the NRA, or any of that. If that's what you want to read about or debate, this isn't the blog for you ... move along now ... Go on ... Click somewhere else. My feelings won't be hurt. Bye, thanks for visiting.

So ... way back in 2009, I alluded to a shooting trip, but I never really touched on it. J and I spent the day wandering around the wilderness, fending off spirit guides, eating, touring ghost towns, and doing some shooting. In addition to all of the pictures I was taking, I also spent New Year's Day 2009 learning how to fire a 9 millimeter -- part of my resolution to try new things in 2009 and have new experiences.

I do have to add more context to this. I did actually grow up with guns in the house, but they were never of interest or curiosity to me, unlike my brothers. It's thanks to their curiosity that gun locks were installed shortly after Dad discovered their explorations. My father grew up hunting in the mountains of the west. My mother grew up on a farm in the south, and one of her childhood stories includes the tale of the time when her father shot a huge black snake off the screen door. My sisters-in-law had rural upbringings and the video of Christina racking a shotgun is ... educational. Most of the adults in the family have been educated on gun safety and have permits, registration, experience, gun safes, gun locks, etc.

Except for me ... the New Yorker ... the one most likely to actually NEED to know how deal with a gun in the case of a mugging, forced entry, etc. I needed to know how to determine if a bullet is chambered, the safeties are on, how to handle the weapon and not accidentally shoot my toes off. Most importantly, I needed to know that the shots that I get off are going to a) scare away someone b) maim them enough for me to get away, or c) stop them dead. I had expressed this to the men in the family, and J was the first one brave enough and with enough time to attempt to teach his older sister.

New Year's Day 2009 in Utah/Arizona/Nevada was very very bright. The undisclosed location in Arizona was affectionately known as the "drunken redneck shooting zone." There were lots of little spots in these nooks and crannies of bluffs in the desert where many people have dumped computers, toilets, cars, and other garbage, and then wailed away at them with various armaments in both sober and drunken states.

The ground was riddled with shell casings and glass and bits and pieces of porcelain and computer bits. Not the most ecologically hospitable environment (or one in which to traverse in Tevas J!).

After driving around a bit, J found us a location that was away from the clay target shooters, the air rifles, and the other big guns (although we could hear them whining around). He saw this port-a-john and decided to use that as the target.

I have to admit. It was a very weird experience on many levels: little brother as teacher; to be holding a gun AT ALL -- even empty and without the magazine in it; to hear all the shots around us; the feeling of the kick back of the gun when I fired it the first time; the hot jackets of the casing flying back up at your hair and almost down your shirt; trying to figure out what eye to focus with; trying to keep your balance; realizing that this is seriously the most uncharacteristic thing you have ever done. I was squinting in the sun, sinking in the mud, and shaking from the adrenaline. My hair was in my face. Sometimes I had no idea where the shot landed. I was trying not to freak out. I didn't kill myself or J that day, which is good, because if I had, Christina probably would have killed me ... and I wouldn't have gotten to go back.

Flash forward until March 4, 2010. More than a year has passed since the last shooting incident and out of the blue Dad announces that he's taking me off for a "shooting trip." It wasn't something I had planned on doing on this trip, but it was good to spend bonding time with Pop.

This time, we had better equipment and a better location. There was no one else at the undisclosed location in almost Arizona, although it did show some evidence of having been used for similar activities in the past, sans glass, toilets, computers, etc. I had darker glasses, a cap in which to put up my hair, a gigantic sweatshirt with a tight neckline (no casings in the decolletage this time), and ear protectors. Dad borrowed a target frame, so that things weren't blowing around in the wind, and that the height would be better. Since this was my second time, I wasn't so freaked out so my hand wasn't shaking so badly. We were able to work on my stance and aim some more. Dad decided to document it (and I took opportunity later to crop these even more.)

All of my shots hit the paper. Here's the target from the first sets of rounds. The first one was way up to the right in the white. The second was in the right 7 shoulder. The third, I'm proud to say (or appalled?) was a head shot. Aside from a few other "wingings" near the ear and arm, I was on the target. We were working on refiring and aim in the clusterings. I'd say I slowed him down a bit.

I have a great deal more practice to do before I'd say my aim was good or that I felt comfortable with handguns. I don't ever expect I will feel completely comfortable, which is probably a good thing. They are serious weapons. I know enough now to know that I need to know more ... and that I hope I will never have to use that knowledge.

At the end of the session, I felt educated and empowered and like I let a little of the stress off.

As a bonus -- I had worked on my aiming issues so I could do well at what turned into a oh-so-slightly competitive family bowling adventure later that day!

Part 2: Bowling