Warning: this is a long entry.

With an interesting drive and my first day of the Suarez shotgun gunfighting course under my belt, Markie and I struck out to find our hotel room. We were both pretty tired, and we decided to check into the hotel, grab some shut-eye, and look for a place to eat.

I’d made reservations at the Red Carpet Inn. I was a little worried when I made my reservation. The Holiday Inn Express and most other hotels in the area were sold out, and the RCI was a not-so-highly-rated one and a half stars. “Who cares?” I thought as I clicked through Expedia.com rapidly, “it’s only one night anyway.”

We arrived to find the kind of two-level, flat-roofed motel I remembered from my childhood. My father and I would travel around buying livestock, and pull over to the most convenient place that would allow a truck and trailer to park. The main requirements back then was something cheap and close to the highway. Cleanliness and safety were further down the list. Much further. The parking lot of our motel was mostly empty when we checked in at about four. It was pretty jammed by the time we napped, showered, and headed out for food. Things had taken a turn towards the scary.

A flatbed ten-wheeled truck drove by, the lady behind the wheel’s face screwed up like Munch’s The Scream painting. The truck didn’t stop and just got back on the highway. As I made sure the motel door was shut and locked, a man got out of his dark-colored Cadillac. “Don’t forget the chicken,” he said as he shut the long, heavy door. A much younger woman wearing a very tight dress poured herself out of the passenger side, holding a bag of food. “At least they can use the grease from that chicken as lube,” Markie said flatly as we got in the Mazda and headed to town.

The rest of the night passed uneventfully, although I will admit I loaded nine rounds in the Mossberg just in case goblins went bump in the night.
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Warning: this is a long entry.

One of the first things I noted about the shotgun course was that it stopped raining as soon as I parked my car. I had read conflicting reports of either 10% chance of rain, or 80% chance of rain throughout the day. The sky appeared to be breaking up. At least I didn’t have to put on my rain gear, I would have been extremely hot even under the GoreTex. Like I said in my part one post, my spirits started to lift.

One of the second things I noted was that there was a pigeon flapping around the setup area. One of the guys joked if it was the land owner’s pet pigeon, and Frank replied that it was. He then proceeded to stick his hand out so that the pigeon could nuzzle him. Apparently Frank adopted the pigeon as a young bird and had semi-domesticated it. I expected the pigeon to fly right in front of the firing line and get atomized, but amazingly it stuck around both days. It was gracious enough to hop around to different cars and shit on all of them.

Five students with over a thousand rounds of ammunition between them, zombie headshots, and a domesticated pigeon: we were ready to start blasting stuff.
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Warning: this is a long entry.

Two weeks ago my friend Markie sent me an email entitled, “can you get the weekend off ….” In the email was a link to a Suarez International shotgun gunfighting class held in nearby Culpeper, Virginia. SI teaches classes all over the world. The class material requirements sounded ominous: 150 rounds of birdshot, fifty rounds of buckshot, fifteen slugs, and at least fifty rounds of pistol ammunition. The course notes recommended a flashlight, elbow pads, a shotgun sling, ammunition pouch/sidesaddle/etc, and the obvious eye and ear protection. The course was $265.00 and did not include the cost of ammunition or gear.

I’ve been shooting for the majority of my life, but it wasn’t anything like the type of shooting I expected to do at the Suarez course. Moving and shooting, high round count (for me), etc. Normally my shooting is done at an indoor “bowling alley” style range where both the target and shooter are standing still and facing each other. Most notably, I have never received any formal marksmanship training, just formal gun safety training. I wasn’t sure how I felt about being a novice shooter in front of a professional instructor and demonstrating my skills (or lack thereof) in front of total strangers.

However, any knowledge — even if it’s knowing that I suck — is worth having. I didn’t really consider the prospect of attending the course as “fun,” and my excitement level was quite a bit lower than Markie’s. I figured this is something that I should do as a responsible firearm owner. I also felt that I needed to carry forward a maxim I read many years ago: Teach the Teacher.

I enjoy introducing new shooters into the world of firearms and marksmanship. In order to more effectively help novice shooters understand and enjoy firearms, I felt that I needed to raise my own knowledge of shooting. The better trained and equipped I am, the more fun my friends and family will have when they go with me. Plus, it would never hurt to have a cadre of experienced shooters around me in case the dead rise. ;)

I typed in my credit card information and registered for the course. The next thing to do was go shopping.
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