Sunday's match at DPC was the first time I've shot in competition in at least 5 yrs. I think. And I had just started competing back then.
I've never shot on the same team with the Dearly Beloved before. I don't know why we never did this before. It's the most fun we can have as a couple... in public, anyway. This time though, I started to act like I didn't know him.
On the drive down there, I asked him what he was gonna shoot. He introduced me to the wonders of a Browning Hi-Power and the PERFECTION that is a Colt 1911 back when he was improving my shooting skills about 18 -20 years ago. In the process, he created another “Colt Snob.” The sole exception to my snobbery is, of course, the BHP.
All you dedicated Glock fans need to grow a sense of humor right about, oh, NOW!
I was truly shocked then when he told me he was gonna shoot his Glock. Since he was wearing his turquoise GSSF “Range Master” shirt, I shouldn't have been TOO surprised, I suppose. He told me how he got paid $50 and the shirt for shooting a Glock and being a RM at a match. I coughed out the word “whore” while we were at a stop light and he laughed.
We shot a standard match with 5 stages. What wasn't standard was the approximately 10 -14 peeps per team. Took forever to complete each stage. It was a pretty, though excessively warm Spring day. I guess everybody had Memorial Day weekend fever. Cause there was a HUGE turnout for this match. There was a n00b on our team and an older guy who used to shoot IPSC with the DB. He was shooting a .22 with optical sights to aid his vision. He did pretty darn good. The n00b did pretty good, too.
I, OTOH, was not pleased with my performance. I kept having trouble with the first target on each rotation. Then I'd settle down and hit the remaining targets with one shot each. EXCEPT, one time. I took an ENTIRE ten round magazine +1 for one set of 5 targets. It was the 5th target, the “STOP” target. I kept going high, it took 7 shots to get my “ding.” Then the last rotation I hit every target with one round. Go figure.
I forgot some of the Range etiquette rules my first few times on the line. They started coming back to me, though. I think I embarrassed myself and the Dearly Beloved less and less as the match continued.
I just checked and the results still aren't up. Dammit. You know...no matter HOW much a shooter SAYS, “Aw, my score doesn't matter. I just went out there and shot to have fun. I KNEW I wasn't gonna have a good score.” We STILL compulsively check the site to see if the scores are posted yet. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I'm thinking, “Please, o please, let somebody ELSE be in last place. I'll settle for next to last. I just don't wanna be DEAD last.”
By the time we got home around 4pm, I was hot and sweaty, hungry and bone tired. I had brought a small cooler with an 8lb bag of ice, a 3 liter bottle of water, a bandanna, an energy bar and 2 packages of peanut butter crackers. Plus, between the 2 of us, we had 3 bottles of water in our range bags. Whenever I'd go to the cleanest Port-a-Potty in Dallas County, I'd take our Sonic cups and fill them with ice and water from the big jug. So we stayed hydrated.
The day before, LaP had noticed several folks pulling their “little red wagons” piled with their stuff. She said that seemed like a good idea; an efficient way to carry lots of stuff. I told her they were known by various names, some not so complimentary, around ranges. The kindest I will repeat here is “gear heads.” On a range, where there are benches at every stage but one; and your car is within walking distance at all times...I just don't see the need, myself, to carry a range bag, a cooler, a chair and various other gear on a little wagon that you have to load and unload from your vehicle. But, that's just minimalist me.
Anyway, I know I had a good time. I think the DB had a good time. And it sounds, from her account, like LaP had a good time.
And that's what REALLY matters [snicker].