This weekend a bunch of guys from church packed up the cars and headed to Elks Neck State park in Maryland to fire some guns at a gun range. I haven't fired anything but a .22 at scout camp, and a shot gun once. I was looking forward to expanding my horizons. I brought along Peter, Tommy, and my roommate's brother, David.
Fortunately, the wildlife / engine block pulverizer wasn't our only option. I stood on the sideline for a while biding my time for the right moment. I was apprehensive about shooting these high caliber weapons of destruction, but eventually I stepped up to the plate. I'm going to loose some man points for not knowing, but I'm not exactly sure what kind of gun I was going to shoot. The guy loaded it for me, told me how to hold it and stepped back. I released the safety, took aim, and gently squeezed the trigger. Click! Nothing happened. Yep, the bullet jammed. I called the guy over and he took a look at it. I guess it's not a good sign when he says, "Well, I've never seen this before." Since I only pulled the trigger I'm pretty sure it wasn't my fault, but I felt bad for ruining this guy's gun. After that I wasn't too keen on taking another chance on either ruining another gun or having some other kind of mishap happen.
For the rest of the day I took on the name of "Jammer." Plus I got a few cool pics of me with a cool gun. Don't let the pics fool you though, I never got to shoot any of the guns. Dab nab it!