Shooting A Gun - Day Twenty Nine

when i was in MEXICO working for a resort, just out of high school, i had my first experience standing beside a "real life gun." this wasn't just any gun but a fully loaded semi-automatic military rifle that was probably half the size of my body. i was sitting in the immigration office on the island of COZUMEL waiting to get my working papers. as i sat in the only sit left in the crowded waiting room i found myself inches away from this piece of steel and wood. it was all i could look at. i remember feeling some nerves knowing that, if the officer wanted, could just cock it and point towards my temple and blow my brains off. looking back on it i can still feel the chill of knowing this action could have happened in any second. i know that because i'm from canada and you see that many guns held or used in public to that capacity that i was reacting to my experience as a canadian and the relationship i have with death... which it can happen in moment, at any second. i was raised with that caution and my father would preach it often.

the other day my father, DANIELLA and myself went to country and did some SKEET shooting. at this point in my life it was the first time that i had shot a gun. i had been hunting before and shot many rifles here in CHILE. i'm a pretty good shoot too. so here we are, in the middle of no where and shooting off disc with my DAD's insane cushy long black hunting rifle and his buddies from the farm's 1940s rifle. now the kick-back on the older rifle is like those asshole bullies in school giving you those PUNCH-BUGGY-NO-PUNCH-BACK kind of shot to the arm. the kind that if youre not ready for it leave a huge bruise. i didn't know this. so i pick up the 1940 riffle, picked it up, loaded, snapped the arm back and aimed. holding it tight on my shoulder, that fucker shot back so hard i was trembling with pain. the HUASOS were laughing as i picked it up the second time. after six shots of it, my shoulder started to hurt hard. the owner of the gun told me that if i kept going that i would get use to it and the pain would go away. as my sister was using my father's CADILLAC riffle i kept to the old riffle and kept shooting. after twelve rounds my should was on fire.
i couldn't continue.
finally i switched to my father's firearm and it was like going from a broken down pick up truck to smoothest VOLVO on earth. that gun purrred. once i shot my father's i was hitting 3 out of 5 disc easy. at the end of the day, just as the sun started to set, we had shot all the shells we brought. when we approached the car and found three smaller shells for experts shooters in my dad's trunk, we loaded the gun. one for DANIELLA, one for my dad and one for me.
first went my dad.
MISS.
then my sister.
MISS

then, i took my stance.
leaned back, yelled "PULL!."
DEAD ON.
got it!
on my way home, i felt like a man.