What would be good for someone inexperienced with guns?
We decided to go and explore American gun culture this Saturday.
I went with my wife and two anthropologists to participate and observe some target shooting at the (rather worryingly) named Crossfire Recreational Center, an indoor shooting range.
Truth be told I just wanted to feel the awesome power of a handgun, which are, for some insane reason, illegal in Britain. The use of the words "explore", "culture", "anthropologists", "participate" and "observe" are shameless attempts to disguise this. I apologise.
We drove across town out to Independence, which is a well known suburb of Kansas City's sprawl, and an appropriate place to blaze away with a nine I think.
Independence is the home town of President Harry S. Truman, who of course ordered the first and only use of Nuclear weapons in anger against two Japanese cities. It is also home to three conservative off-shoots of the Mormon church, which surround "Temple Lot", a patch of land which is to be the centre of the New Jerusalum that will come to America for the the second coming of Christ.
Naturally folks have been squabbling ever since over whose temple was to be the one that Christ visited. So irritating was this arguing that in 1838 the then governor, Lilburn Boggs, got so fed up with all the Mormon bullshit in his state that he declared open season on Mormons. His decree is worth quoting. Here is a man out of patience:
"...open and avowed defiance of the laws, and of having made war upon the people of this State ... the Mormons must be treated as enemies, and must be exterminated or driven from the State if necessary for the public peace—their outrages are beyond all description."
Clearly Boggs was more of a second amendment dude, than a first, fourth or fifth kind of guy. Unfortunately for the many second amendment dudes in Independence today, Bogg's order was canceled after 138 years as being, well, unconstitutional. So todays gun toting militia (well regulated) have to make do with just shooting at targets and the occasional "home invader" (ie possum/squirrel/your teenage child and, very occasionally, burglar).
I asked Steve why we had to drive so far out of town to go shooting, thinking that maybe all sorts of regulations, zoning laws and licensing issues must be at play.
"Oh I have a coupon. 50% off." said Steve. Despite trying my hardest I still cannot think like a Missourian.
So we arrived at the centre. A box of a building in a bland, tatty, slightly rusty and windswept suburb.
While us boys lingered in the gun store, my wife marched to the counter only to be told that she couldn't shoot as she was pregnant. It seems the only thing that trumps the second amendment here was the rights of the unborn. Of course.
"I'll bring the kid back when it is old enough to shoot" joked my wife. This brought beaming smiles from behind the counter.
"Oh yes. Start them young." The Lady behind the counter turned and pointed to a man sitting behind her who was cleaning what looked like Dirty Harry's .44 Magnum,
"Hank", (I can't remember if this was his name but Hank is probably close enough)
"brought his daughter when she was only four. She loves to shoot don't she Hank?"
Anyway my wife could not shoot. Lead in the air (!) was dangerous for the baby or something. I didn't really listen. I just put it down to plain old fashioned common sense that pregnant women are not to be trusted with firearms as they are hormonal.
But I hid my relief that I wouldn't be in the same room as my pregnant wife with a loaded semi, as there were still plenty of guns within grabbing distance, and we got down to business.
It took a while to establish we had no ammo, no guns and no clue, but they appeared unfazed. Gavin, who is from Kansas and therefore has an innate knowledge of guns, had decided that me and Steve might want to shoot six shooters "as they are safer."
But the lady behind the counter, all rouge and wrinkles, was having none of it.
"What would be good for someone inexperienced with guns?" asked Steve
"9mm is good"
"Ok" said Steve meekly. I swear I heard him swallow.
We signed two forms. One was agreeing that I was who I said I was. One was agreeing that I wouldn't point the gun anywhere I shouldn't. No I.D. was needed. No computer database was checked. A gun was produced and a very quick demo of how to load it was provided. One last thing:
"How do you fire it?"
"Pull the trigger"
"oh ok"
Then, with ear protection and eye glasses on, and 100 slugs to use, we were free to let loose. We went for the normal paper targets, as Osama and Saddam cut outs cost extra and just seemed a bit, you now, cliched.
Now I missed most of the demo as I was talking to my wife about babies and lead poisoning. But I wasn't too worried as luckily the gun they gave me was just like the one Eddie Murphy used in Beverly Hills Cop. I felt confident I knew what I was doing. The only difference was this one, even with its "flush fit" magazine, could only hold 15 rounds, whereas Eddie's clearly held about 93 in that movie.
Steve went first. A shy and gentle man, there was something incongruous about watching this anthropologist blasting away with his Browning Hi Power 9mm Semi. He clearly didn't like the noise but blasted away remorselessly anyway. It was like watching a vicar snorting coke or something - it just didn't fit.
My turn came and basically I got Gavin to fiddle around with the gun until it was ready to fire. I figured no true English gentleman would load his own guns, so why bother to learn. I adopted my best SO19 stance, lined up the sights with where I thought the paper man's heart was and squeezed. The gun jumped up and made a pleasant bang. The recoil was not as bad as expected, jolting upwards more than backwards. Anyway I concentrated on hitting the target and did for the most part, so I put a few in the head to make sure.
Listen: I'm not going to pretend I felt my heart crying at the violent context of it all, at all the pain and suffering this weapon has caused throughout history. I felt nothing, apart from a slightly crazy feeling that I might accidently shoot myself. I just wanted to feel comfortable that I was shooting right. That left no room for any other response.
Until my last clip that is, which I decided to empty quickly into the target, like Mr Pink in Reservoir Dogs. After that I felt profoundly satisfied.
Get thee behind me, Satan: for thou savourest not the things that be of God, but the things that be of men. If Christ is choosing Independence, Missouri as the location for his second coming, maybe it is a good choice after all.
