1. A woman in another lane flagged me as she asked for help with a Roy d stuck in the chamber. I immediately said, “Whoa, whoa, don’t point that thing at me—point it down the lane” and explained what to do. She was apologetic and we looked at her pistol. I asked, “Can I touch it?” She said “Sure” and I tried to clear it. Didn’t budge—she’d loaded the round backwards. So we knocked on the glass and got the staff to come clear it, while I explained what to do if she ever had a problem like that (set the pistol on the counter, pointed down range, ask for help).
So I’m merrily, or sweatily, practicing while waiting for my instructor to show—not like him to flake out—turns out he got stuck at the doc, so we called it off.
Then I noticed some clown had shot the shiny new chrome plate on the counter. Really? Bad enough they’ve already shot up the freshly-painted walls and ceiling not a week after the range upgraded things.
All of a sudden, something falls on my head. I was like, “What the fuck was that?!” Looked up and the case over the motor for the target carrier had fallen off. Fortunately, my earmuff headband took most of the blow.
Finally, with the full-on party craziness going on a couple of stalls in the other direction, I decided that I didn’t like the odds.
I did my usual post-shoot cursory cleaning and called it a day. 100 rounds, 3 fliers, some good groupings , and made it home alive. Results attached.
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