Yesterday, I attended a Zombie Apocalypse training session at the Gold Coast Pistol Club.
Our merry band of potential Apocalypse survivors wound our way down to the coast (50 minutes early, Zombies appreciate punctuality!) and tried our luck with several different types of magic boom-sticks. While I felt like Lara Croft, I probably looked more like Forest Gump.
Only one other person in our wary band of potential survivors had ever shot a gun before, and there’s no surprises that he came out with paper targets that looked decidedly neat, tidy and bullet-ridden.
I did, however, surprise myself.
It turns out that I do not completely suck at shooting things.
Of course, the skill levels are slightly questionable when we were firing from very close range. We were also shooting a considerate paper target that was neither alive, nor was it moving. Nevertheless, my bullets remained mostly in the centre circle, and mostly in my own target range.
I was even moderately successful when I misfired, shooting two bullets instead of one. Sure, I squeaked, pulled a ridiculous face, and swore a little bit but both rounds were soundly plonked through the Bullseye.
The shotgun finale was a bit of a show-stopper – and after two rounds of loud shoulder-thumping idiocy, I decided that the shotgun was certainly not my weapon of choice. Sure, it would make a mess out of a Zombie, but I’d also make a bit of a mess of my poor busted shoulder as well.
Of all the guns, the bolt-action .22 rifle, or the Glock seemed to scare me the least – and provided me with some semi-decent shooting. While I dont think I’ll bother taking up pistol shooting as a hobby, I can now proudly say that I know which end is the dangerous end!
Perhaps my hours playing Tomb Raider weren’t so wasted after all!