John’s Shot-Gun Bachelor Party Recap

Who would have thunk that such mindless violence could be so damn entertaining?

We went to Peace Dale Shooting Preserve in Wakefield, RI.  We were supposed to be there at 2:00pm, but both drivers took wrong turns along the way and everyone was late.  Those in my car were latest, but all four of us were looking intently for that friggin’ turn off 138 West, and all four of us missed it… twice.

Once we finally got to the site we had a quick and dirty lesson on shot-gun safety (which was ultimately ignored by the guy working with us on at least two occasions) and use, and then they gave us some easy targets to start with.

We’d bought 50 targets/shells each, and the first round we did we took five shots.  John the Bachelor went first and hit three out of the five targets.  That  made me seriously nervous because I was convinced I wasn’t going to shoot anything but air.  When my first turn came I took a gun, listened to the instructor for a bit, loaded a shell, took aim while feeling more than a little bit like a doofus (and a hypocrite too, let’s be honest), and called, “pull” knowing I had zero chance of hitting anything.  The little orange clay pigeon came out from behind the tree line in the distance, high in the air… I tracked it, waited for it’s arc to peak (thanking my calculus classes for the first time ever)… lead it a little… and !BLAM!

Do you know what happened then?

That little bitch of a clay pigeon burst into about 10,000 pieces.

I hit the target with my first shot.  Un-freakin-believable!

Of course I missed with the next four, but who cares… I hit one!

The second round I hit two more, but was still feeling kind of lost.  I knew what I was trying to do, but for some reason when I hit the target it seemed almost as if I had my eyes closed.  I wasn’t sure what I was doing right, and therefore I couldn’t necessarily replicate the process.

In the third round however, my eyes and my hands started communicating and I really started getting it.  After that point, the misses were few and far between, and when I did miss a target I could immediately tell what I did wrong.  I was really comfortable with the gun, and (dare I say it?) firing it started to feel natural to me.

I’m not going to go buy a gun, and there is no NRA membership in my future… but I’ll probably go back to this place again and unleash the Wrath of Rob on some more clay pigeons.

Remembering that this was a bachelor party, it may seem strange that there were cameras present… but this is me we’re talking about, so here are some pictures.  The shots where you see me were taken by Larry, so I felt obligated to include one shot of him as well.  The rest are my brother The Bachelor.

The Bachelor takes aim……

….still aiming….

….and KABLAM!

Notice the ejected shell flying through the air?

And the bachelor reloads for the next shot.

The Best Man takes aim as the Bachelor fires… notice the ejected shell about to hit the table between us.

Larry takes a shot… he’s left handed so I was standing on the opposite side of the gun, but you can still see the shell being ejected.

I took a few souvenirs.  Two used shells and a chunk of one of the targets that I shot.

And one more picture of me, complete with the ejecting shell.

After we finished playing gun nuts we went to Foxwoods where the tables were unkind to all.  We met up with three more people who couldn’t make it to the gun range and then started in the buffet.  I ate enough food for a small village in a third world country.  Lets just say that if Sally Struthers saw how much food I ate she’d kick my ass.

As for the casino… I’m not a gambler at all.  I’ve never had money to speak of, and the idea of just throwing it away on a bet is a little terrifying to me.  I tried a little, but not really.  I ended up placing a total of $25 worth of bets, and I never won a penny back, and I gave another $20 in chips to The Bachelor who promptly lost it at a poker table.  Larry isn’t a gambler either, so we spent most of the night just wandering around the building, checking the place out.

Those who were gambling were eaten alive by the house.  They all agreed that they had a lot of fun, but they were also pissed off at how bad everyone did.  At least everyone kept within their means.  No one made any ATM runs during losing streaks.  That’s a good thing.

So my brother the Bachelor had a great time at his Party.  His shoulder was sore from having a shot gun kick it 50 times, but otherwise he was very happy with the festivities.  That’s just the kind of day I wanted him to have.

My little brother is getting married next month, and we gave his single life a nice send off.

Next stop… the wedding.