The other day we took our friend Nais (pronounced “Nye-eese) to the pistol range. Nais is a young schoolteacher friend of ours from Taekwondo. Formerly dating a Border Patrol Agent (also a friend of ours), she has developed a desire to shoot guns.

Heck, I don’t see how anybody wouldn’t want to shoot guns. I mean, the heft of the cartridge, the careful aim, the pressure of the blast on your skin, the sharp smell of nitrocellulose vapor in the air, the satisfaction of the bullet punching a near perfect bulls eye in the paper, far down the range produce an ethereal natural high better than any drug or drink could ever come close too. It simply cannot be found anywhere else. Accept no substitutes!

I have been involved in the shooting sports since my father first put that little .22 pistol in my hands on that range in Quail Valley California that I still vaguely remember. He gently guided me through the process of firing my first shot as well a allowing me to shoot several other guns that day including his .22 Mossberg match rifle and I watched as he fired his old model .70, .270 that day. It was as big as a cannon and I was instantly in love.

That day launched me on a life of hunting and fishing for close to half a century now.

I found myself giving encouragement to Nais as we drove toward the range. Getting there we found ourselves alone with the entire facility, a true treat. Inside, D and I unpacked the guns we brought, the two Glocks, the XD-9 subcompact, the Kel-Tech and the two Browning Buckmaster .22’s. Before we began I gave Nais the standard, time honored safety lecture, and let D coach her in the art of aim, fire and follow through. Timid at first I beamed like a proud dad when she finally conquered her initial hesitation and begun punching very pretty little groups through near the center of the target at 10 yards. I’ve always believed that women are the best shooters by and large.

While we were coaching our friend, another shooter walked in and set up his .22 at the far corner of the range. American Firing Range is an indoor facility and only has six lanes so it wasn’t too far away. As always we were polite and friendly, but this guy just seemed to have an air of superiority. One of those kinds. He also had a mid western accent, specifically Minnesota. Great. Probably a Winter Texan.

Reloading magazines, this guy pauses to do so and sort of smugly says; “ I can shoot this .22 all day long for what it costs to shoot my .380. I nod and agree. I sure enjoy our Buckmasters, but there’s also nothing like shooting bigger calibers, and besides if you carry one for defense it’s essential to stay comfortable with that weapon. Hell, we even shoot IDPA…..

Then he says:” Besides, .380 ammo has been pretty scarce. I can’t even find any. Know where I can get some?”. “I’ve had some problem getting .40 caliber, but lately I’ve found a few boxes here and there” I say, thinking back to about March of last year when it was essentially non-existent here. “Yea” I continue…”ammo has been pretty short ever since that guy took office last fall”. “Well” he says, “I heard the government needed it to supply the war in the middle East.”

Now, I’ve heard this preposterous statement before so I told him: “You know, the military doesn’t shoot .380 and the only folks in the military that shoot .40 cal are the MP’s and that’s by choice. I was beginning to suspect this guy was one of those people that can’t figure out if they’re liberal or conservative, a child of the 60’s that just never shed the social affectations of liberalism a la Woodstock. The most pathetic kind.

‘

So I continued on, now getting just a bit impassioned. “Man, can you believe what they’re doing to limit our second amendment rights". I get NRA’s America’s First Freedom and read it from cover to cover to stay abreast of what’s being done to rob us those rights. “ He just shot back; “Well, I don’t see that anywhere’…..letting his thought trail off down the range.

I could tell I was dealing with an idiot. Unfortunately a somebody that there seems to been too many of. I felt weary. The elation I felt over Nais’ accomplishments were quickly succumbing to a sense of morose.

“We’re doomed” I mourned to myself.

I thought for a moment about trying to enlighten this guy, and then I realized it was folly. He was as set in his ideas as I am in mine. It would make no sense.

So I just turned away and shook my head, mumbling to myself:

“Maybe Texas will Secede”

…..Ahhhh but by then it’ll probably be too late