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For me at least, the bi-annual pistol qualifications we do in this camp are just part of doing business; either a slight reprieve to daylight work hours for us vampires on the night shift, or a minor hassle that interrupts the weekly flow, all depending on how one chooses to look at it. I'm no Tackleberry, Christ knows we have a few of those, but I ain't no shooting range slouch either. It's not something I particular look forward to or particularly mind, it's just one of those things.
And it never really changes that much. For the last thirteen years, twenty six straight range dates, it's been the same thing. To a T. The same power point presentation, the same safety brief, the same spiel on trigger control, the same picture of the mangled hand from improper holstering, the same image of the quick draw with the missing toe, the same retired Marine instructor bellowing out at six in the damn morning, "Ok hard chargers! A hundred and four rounds 'til Miller time!" I know the serious and passionate shooting enthusiast will probably despise this assessment, but it really is easy to pretty much just go through the motions and phone the whole thing in.
Last week there was a slight change to the monotony. To quote Phil Connors from Groundhog Day: "Something is different. Anything different is good." See, it's actually quite difficult to fill an eight hour day with thirty people shooting one day qual and one night qual apiece. And since that's all the cheap bastards will supply us ammo for, that's all we shoot. So out of that eight hour day there is roughly six hours and forty five minutes of sitting around the classroom, bullsh*tting with old friends, smoking out back, nodding off in the chair, and just time wasting of the general variety. On Thursday, while leaning against the wall contemplating life's mysteries, the instructor came in and enthusiastically asked who wanted to give the new "simunitions" video game program a go. A little sad to say, but I didn't even bother looking up until I heard the instructor utter the magic words: "It's zombie scenarios. I need three volunteers."
Naturally, I was pretty much instantly out of my seat and brandishing the simunitions Glock, ready to rid the world of the zombie pestilence once and for all. I hardly even registered the two guys who would be joining me in this righteous endeavor; both young kids fresh to patrol, neither of whom I can say with any amount of certainty I'd ever seen before in my life prior to that morning. As I waited for the program to cue up and freshly invigorated by the change of pace, I decided to set the tone of this thing right out of the gate. I glanced at one of the new guys next to me, a big burly fella, and said, "Ok, obviously I'm Rick. You can be Daryl I guess." Making a quick glance past Daryl, I looked for the other young officer and continued, "You can be, uh--", and fell into a brief yet self conscious silence when I discovered that the officer I was addressing was a young Asian dude. Rolling with this development, I went on to say, "How about Tyreese?" He just looked at me for a second, rolled his eyes a little and said, "No, it's ok. I can be Glenn."
Well, your call buddy. Maybe I just don't understand my audience, but I was a little disappointed that nobody in the room thought this situation was as hilarious as I did. I'm sure it probably speaks more to my immaturity and level of boredom than it does about what they find entertaining. In any event, and in case anyone was wondering, the zombie video game was pretty f*cking awesome. Live action actors, spooky locations, excessive gore, all that sh*t. I was pretty lucky too, because I found out that two days after I was there some do-gooder captain was qualifying at the range and objected to the game due to one fact that I'm sure we are all aware of: Walkers can only be taken down with head shots. "Improper training! Center mass!", this crusader apparently railed to a room full of captive and more than likely apathetic listeners. But of course, this dude's gripe went high enough up the ladder that the range no longer offers the opportunity to digitally ensure the survival of the human race and quickly sh*tcanned the zombie video game. Oh well. I'll be back in six months, as bright eyed and bushy tailed as ever, ready to shoot. "A hundred and four rounds 'til Miller time!"
And it never really changes that much. For the last thirteen years, twenty six straight range dates, it's been the same thing. To a T. The same power point presentation, the same safety brief, the same spiel on trigger control, the same picture of the mangled hand from improper holstering, the same image of the quick draw with the missing toe, the same retired Marine instructor bellowing out at six in the damn morning, "Ok hard chargers! A hundred and four rounds 'til Miller time!" I know the serious and passionate shooting enthusiast will probably despise this assessment, but it really is easy to pretty much just go through the motions and phone the whole thing in.
Last week there was a slight change to the monotony. To quote Phil Connors from Groundhog Day: "Something is different. Anything different is good." See, it's actually quite difficult to fill an eight hour day with thirty people shooting one day qual and one night qual apiece. And since that's all the cheap bastards will supply us ammo for, that's all we shoot. So out of that eight hour day there is roughly six hours and forty five minutes of sitting around the classroom, bullsh*tting with old friends, smoking out back, nodding off in the chair, and just time wasting of the general variety. On Thursday, while leaning against the wall contemplating life's mysteries, the instructor came in and enthusiastically asked who wanted to give the new "simunitions" video game program a go. A little sad to say, but I didn't even bother looking up until I heard the instructor utter the magic words: "It's zombie scenarios. I need three volunteers."
Naturally, I was pretty much instantly out of my seat and brandishing the simunitions Glock, ready to rid the world of the zombie pestilence once and for all. I hardly even registered the two guys who would be joining me in this righteous endeavor; both young kids fresh to patrol, neither of whom I can say with any amount of certainty I'd ever seen before in my life prior to that morning. As I waited for the program to cue up and freshly invigorated by the change of pace, I decided to set the tone of this thing right out of the gate. I glanced at one of the new guys next to me, a big burly fella, and said, "Ok, obviously I'm Rick. You can be Daryl I guess." Making a quick glance past Daryl, I looked for the other young officer and continued, "You can be, uh--", and fell into a brief yet self conscious silence when I discovered that the officer I was addressing was a young Asian dude. Rolling with this development, I went on to say, "How about Tyreese?" He just looked at me for a second, rolled his eyes a little and said, "No, it's ok. I can be Glenn."
Well, your call buddy. Maybe I just don't understand my audience, but I was a little disappointed that nobody in the room thought this situation was as hilarious as I did. I'm sure it probably speaks more to my immaturity and level of boredom than it does about what they find entertaining. In any event, and in case anyone was wondering, the zombie video game was pretty f*cking awesome. Live action actors, spooky locations, excessive gore, all that sh*t. I was pretty lucky too, because I found out that two days after I was there some do-gooder captain was qualifying at the range and objected to the game due to one fact that I'm sure we are all aware of: Walkers can only be taken down with head shots. "Improper training! Center mass!", this crusader apparently railed to a room full of captive and more than likely apathetic listeners. But of course, this dude's gripe went high enough up the ladder that the range no longer offers the opportunity to digitally ensure the survival of the human race and quickly sh*tcanned the zombie video game. Oh well. I'll be back in six months, as bright eyed and bushy tailed as ever, ready to shoot. "A hundred and four rounds 'til Miller time!"
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That is pretty funny.
