I Shot a Gun and I’m Glad I Did

I had never even held a gun, let alone loaded and fired one. The news and politics surrounding guns has painted two sides very well: the “snowflakes” that want to take everyone’s guns and the “doomsday preppers” with their well-stocked arsenals of machine guns, sniper rifles, and grenades. It’s an easy story to tell, and it’s readily flipped for either side’s narrative. Here’s the truth: the good guys are just trying to protect themselves, their families, and their loved ones. For some, that means trying to keep bullets away from anyone who can harm their children, and for others, it means practicing at a gun range and arming themselves so they can stop assailants from attacking their families. My time at the gun range was one of the most eye-opening experiences I’ve ever had.

We walked into the club and to the back where they check ID, go over safety rules, have you pay, and have you sign a waiver. Safety rules are on the walls and on the waiver, and at least three people go over them with you. While signing the waiver, we could hear the shots being fired in the gun range. We got a 9mm handgun, the man at the counter put the unloaded gun and magazine in a bag where it stayed until we got to our stall at the range. We were given goggles and giant headphones to protect our ears from the banging. We got ready in the hallway and entered the range.

Naturally, I was nervous. I knew that what I was holding could fatally harm anyone in the range if handled improperly. I followed safety precautions to the “T.” I held the gun in my hands, my finger not yet on the trigger, stood with my legs wide, shoulders back and arms straight. I was preparing for the kickback for the gun, looked down the sight, aimed, fired, and flinched. I hit my target but didn’t quite get the bullseye. It was incredibly difficult to keep the gun aimed precisely while the bullet forcefully exited. Between every shot, I took my finger off the trigger, aimed, and shot again. I struggled to fire with accuracy.

I have never been particularly into video games, but I’ve played CoD, Halo and GTA. I’m usually okay at first-person shooter games, but then again, it’s easy to button mash at animated people on a screen. The gun range was nothing like that. GTA had not desensitized me. I didn’t feel like goofing around in the gun range. When I play GTA, I feel relaxed and stupid, and I make dorky decisions. When I held the gun in the gun range, I felt nervous and tense. Those who know me, know how much I like to joke around, but in the gun range, I was serious. I wanted to be safe. When I looked around the range, even those more experienced than me were focused and responsible.

I watched the couple in the stall next to me hit tiny targets. My target was HUGE compared to theirs. They were precise. They had much more control despite the kickback of the gun. It made me think of all the police officers and men and women in the armed forces. The amount of time and dedication it must take to get to their level of precision is beyond me. Every shot was a struggle for me. I’m not sure I could ever shoot with the kind of accuracy our military and police officers do. Going to the gun range gave me a deeper respect for anyone that holds a gun professionally.

My body was tense and shooting was physically taxing. My elbow and shoulders were sore. The space between my thumb and trigger finger was red and achey. I had to force myself to use my core and stand straight up rather than lean away from the gun. Despite the leftover aches and pains, I’m glad I had this experience. Guns have never been a reality in my world, they have always been a hypothetical. Going to the gun range helped give me more perspective. It was a challenge, and it was humbling.