Have I ever told you about the first time I fired a gun?
It was two years ago. My friend invited me to a boys weekend with his in-laws at a remote hunting cabin. He wanted me to go with him because he said it often got awkward; the explanation was deliberately vague. He was really asking me for backup, but I missed that signal.
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I had just returned from a business snd had 5 minutes to trade one set of clothes for another. I made very efficient use of time and used the same suitcase, failing to appreciate the optics of rolling luggage in the wilderness. The father-in-law told me not to expect concierge service while musing about my pronouns.
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It was boldly proclaimed that a man with fancy luggage was a man had probably never fired a gun. Again my luggage was causing me problems and I just wanted to drink and play cards. Shooting guns was a new item on the agenda and my gracious hosts had emasculated me with self-doubt.
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When you go to a remote cabin, you lose cell service and electricity. If you’re with me, you also lose drinking water, because I don't know how to use a cast iron pump handle that has worked perfectly fine for 80 years before I came along and broke it, and, sure, nobody is mad at me, but if I need water could I please just ask because now I've ruined it for everyone
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Drinking alcohol seemed to calm everyone down for a while. Nobody talked about suitcases or water, and I was beginning to feel comfortable. There was ammunition spread about everywhere, but nobody had mentioned guns. I suppose we weren’t drunk enough for firearms, although that can quickly change.
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If you’re going to mention a gun at the start of the play, you better show it to the audience by the second act. I was ten beers deep when I could hear rounds being loaded into a Chinese assault rifle. Hollywood had prepared me for the distinctive sound. My friend looked over at me nervously, apologetically, for what good that did.
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I tried to suggest that the firing of guns was a daylight activity, best done when not blind drunk. But logic tends to disappear about as quickly as cold beer, and assault gun owners tend to prefer action over logic. All I could do is make sure that everyone was standing on the right side of their gun. For the most part they were.
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I have a longstanding rule about not dragging injured bodies out of dense forests in the dark. This is something you need the sun for, otherwise it's more dangerous and looks suspicious. Every time a shot rang out and we all remained standing, that was a victory.
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It was my turn to shoot bullets into the abyss. I got my 2 minute gun safety talk: "I'm going to set up targets, don't point the gun at me." The talk seemed rushed, but it's good advice if your goal is not to shoot someone. I have a feeling we skipped a lot because they would scream whenever I did something wrong.
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So we fired the guns. It was loud, fun, and anti-climatic. I would do it again, but I certainly don't need to. I just like drinking and playing cards. It's safer. I was relieved when it was decided to go back inside and "maybe shoot the other guns later." (yes, more guns, plural)
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When drunk men play cribbage, the honour system for keeping score gets strained. Between one set of in-laws, that honour system was apparently gone long before I had packed my fancy suitcase. The argument grew to a comical intensity. I realized why my friend had brought me.
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Now I'd been seeing cribbage pegs being moved arbitrarily for hours. I'd also seen a rifle and been told about other guns. I was only going to be a calming witness to this argument. I discreetly placed an old newspaper atop of some stray bullets on the table just to feel safer.
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Drunken arguments will end just as quickly as they started. This is often a relief, but it can be disappointing. Somewhere on the blinking side of a coma, I drunkenly got in my sleeping bag and gave one last fleeting thought to the guns around me. I slurred a self-serving prayer.
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I'm not sure what hit first: the first light of morning or my hangover. Probably daylight, because I assume I was still drunk when I woke up. We didn't fire more guns, and I even used the old pump to get lake water for coffee. If you make a nice breakfast you get invited back.