The Poser

Wonder if you run into people like this or am I just blessed?

Back at the range with my now less than trusty Marlin Papoose. I set up on the 50 yard section, made sure everything was in order; ammo arranged properly, rifle pointed down range, magazine out, screen in place to stop my brass from whacking anyone. I retired to behind the non-fire line to wait for a target check so I could put out a new one.

As I stood there, a “military” type (meaning he thinks he is military and dresses like he is, acts like he is and everyone knows he is a total poser) literally tried to body check me into a support pole for the range roof. Unfortunately, for him, not only am I five inches taller but also out weighed him by at least 70 pounds! And, due to my healing left foot , I had all of my weight on my right foot when he hit me.

I slowly lowered my left boot on to his foot and pinned him firmly in place until the range master, whom had seen this and was running over, had a chance to give him a royal tongue lashing. He apologized and left to go down range, as it was now time for the target check.

Of course, the first thing he did was run over to my old target and toss it. Range master had to give him another lecture.

Time for practice and the man now proceeds to dump a full clip through his M-15 as fast as he can, hot brass falling all over me and three others. Range master comes a running again.

So, I moved to the opposite side of the range. But, even here, over the sounds of multiple rifles going off and a set of ear plugs, I can still hear him hollering about making bulls eye’s so loudly - I was thinking of shooting him myself! But, then again, my rifle was not hitting on target. Maybe I should jut club him with it? I see the now stressed range master walking down the range again, slowly twisting a rag in his hands.

A few minutes later, everyone is ready for a target check and standing behind the line – except for this work of art. So, I holler at him it is time for a target check and between curses he tells me no way. I might mention, so loudly that here comes the range master again!

He is now shooting a .30-06, grabs a round, jams it in and KABOOM! Creates parts all over the range! Yeah, he had a .308 NATO in his box of .30-06 shells!

The range master gently set his hand firmly on the now sobbing jerk’s shoulder, encouraging him to pack it up and go home for the day.

Later, I went to congratulate the range master on his incredible patience. He was sitting alone at a table in the clubhouse; a screwdriver in one hand and a wrench in the other, shaking. Just sitting there shaking. His eyes could not even focus on me.

Yeah. Seen that one more than a few times. That was one lucky jerk; I doubt he even knew how close he came to ….. well, learning all about what someone with real battle experience (and fatigue) is completely capable of.