Real politik

Cause all the cool kids are doing it.

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Boomsticks Blogmeet AAR

OK, so it really isn't an After Action Report. Rather, a brief synopsis of the fun we had (however short it may have been).

The Background:

A couple weeks ago I was blogsurfing, when I hit Speaker Tweaker (Where sometimes things go bang). He mentioned that all the cool kids where getting together, and we should as well (I'm inserting myself in as a "we" simply because I read the blogs). He left an open invitation, and like the fat kid who finds a lost birthday part invitation, I wanted to eat cake. He and Murphy started planning.

The runup:
I told my wife, who then mentions we had a party that night in San Antonio anyway. Score! Seems to be working out, until I started on the details. She didn't want to take two cars. Makes sense to me, but she wasn't excited about shooting. It just isn't her thing (no big deal I can understand). We decided that 9AM was too early anyway and we would show up late. Still excited. I started loading mags.


The Day:
Loading the truck, I realized I didn't want to lug a ton of firearms down to San Antonio then have to explain to my in-laws what I am carrying and why I have them. They don't know I blog. It's easier for me to complain, talk about the stuff they don't know about (tattoos), and frankly I just don't want them to know.

This brings up a dilemma. What to bring. I decided to bring the Sub2k 9mm and my cursed 1911. I'm still not sure why I decided to bring this particular pistol, as it has never worked properly. Typically giving a failure to feed. Last time out it worked almost flawlessy, but I wasn't lucky this time. (As an aside, if anyone knows a smith who works on 1911s who can do the work for say $200 I would appreciate it).

We roll in with no problems (Yay GPS!), and walk in. The range is nice, although I'm glad I brought ears with me, as you park in a central area and shooting is going on all around. I walk into the pistol area and quickly realize I don't know what anyone looks like. The range is cold, and I'm able to listen in on several conversations. Through this I pick two groups that might be the people I am looking for. Only one has a CZ52. Bingo, I walk up and casually ask if Jim was part of the blogmeet. Fortunately he was. I pulled out my doomed pistol and lay it on the table.

I'm not going to force a play by play, but here are some of the highlights:

*"Is this screw supposed to look like this?" Crap, no.

*Bang. Why did my magazine just blow out the bottom of my Keltec? Hmm, something isn't right. Why does this brass have a whole in the bottom? Looks like a case head failure. Time to switch ammo.

*I might be crazy, but I didn't think the Mosin was too bad. "That's because you are a masochist." Fair enough.

*"Did anyone notice the disconcerting number of holes in the tin roof of the rifle range."

*"We only allow slow shooting from the bench. No more then 3 shots every five seconds." Possibly related to the holes in the roof?

*"Time to go." Looks like I'm done guys, my wife has been way more then patient with me.

Aftermath:
I had fun. Next time I will be more prepared. Why I decided to bring that pistol I don't know. I kinda felt like the Ahole of the world, but at least had a good time when I shot that Mosin. I think I have one of those on my list. I can only imagine the impression I left. My ADD was firing and I was a spazz. Oh well, it happens.

Here are a couple more images:

Jim & the Sig 556


Speaker and the M44


I'm not sure how I missed a picture of Murph. Probably more of me being a Spazz.

Lost pups

We lost our big boy Saturday the 24th. The wife and I had date night. Dinner and a movie. When we got home, we called the pups in, our little dalmatian ran up, but Jack our Ridgeback didn't come right away. That isn't unusual, he's our old man, and sometimes it takes him some time to get up the stairs. She called him again, but he still didn't come. When she walked out on the deck, she saw he was struggling up the stairs, and when he saw her he collapsed. He slid down a couple steps unable to support himself. She screamed and called me to help. I ran out and grabbed him, carrying him down the rest of the stairs. I laid him on the deck, and listened for a heart beat. It was weak and he was struggling to breathe. I started giving him supplemental breathing through his nose, but he wasn't responding. We sat and held him while he passed.

It's tough. Paloma our dalmatian isn't eating. They spent every day of the last 12 years together, and she keeps walking around looking for him. I should have let her sniff him before loading him up, but wasn't thinking clearly. I don't know if I will get another dog after she is gone. It hurts too much when we lose them.

RIP buddy. Keep watch over Memo & the rest of the pack. You are in charge until we get there.