The target below is the result of my first attempt at shooting the .22 revolver at 50ft, single action. I'm just glad that all 18 shots are on the paper! I'd need a lot more practice, obviously, to even consider joining the 22 league at the range, but I'm told it's a good start.
We're now range regulars on Sundays. It's nice to see the usual guys, check out their new gear, chat a little..you know, join in on what humans like to call "being social". But occasionally, there's someone new.
Yesterday, that someone new was a (Reasonably Nice) man teaching his (Jackass) friend how to shoot. Reasonably Nice was politely interested in what I was shooting, asking me about the laser sights on the .38, etc. He did have a little trouble when I showed him the other guns in the Fallacy collection - he kept asking if I had rented them and I had to keep answering, "No, this is mine too."
Jackass, now, was a different story. As soon as I walked onto the range, I caught his attention. I was only two stalls down from him and Reasonably Nice, and he kept looking at me and smiling as if I was some strange animal. I could practically hear the narrative running in his head: "OMG! Girl! Gun! Girl touching gun! OMG! Boobs! Boobs near gun!"
I had a hot-brass-down-the-shirt incident (remind me to wear turtlenecks.) which of course involved the inevitable hot-brass-down-the-shirt-HOT!-ow-ow-ow dance. Jackass's head was peeking around the corner of my stall so fast, you would have thought I was the featured entertainment at one of those gentlemen's clubs. "Hot one, huh? Heh heh heh." I looked at him like he was an insect.
And to top it all off, my friend Nicole (who came with us yesterday to continue her love affair with the Mk II) told me that while I was busy shooting, Jackass got behind me, and quick as anything, pulled out his cell phone and took a picture. Rude.
Did Jackass not notice that I was armed?