Hard target: What I learned at my first nighttime shooting competition

The Stage 1 fire path included three scenarios. First, shoot a series of steel plates horizontally, then shuffle to the left to knock out the vertical targets. Then take out the magazine and fire the last shot into the eyeball plate on the left.

The faster the better. Scores were determined based on both speed and accuracy. After each shot, the safety officer rattled off the numbers to the scorekeeper inside the bunker.

The range at night was disorienting and truly an equalizer. Darkness can degrade even the most skilled daytime shooter.

“Just focus on getting out,” my friend said, handing me a replacement pistol. “And even if you don't hit one goal, you'll be even more successful the next time you hit one. That way you'll be twice as accurate. And best of all, enjoy a big goofy smile! Please.”

Miss, miss, miss, miss, miss, pin!

We were a group of heavily armed, soft-spoken, cheerful men. The atmosphere was calm yet focused, the level of tranquility you would expect from a monastery. We could have easily gathered around a fire in the shadow of a cave millions of years ago, equipped with the same ancient instincts of survival and camaraderie.

Civilization requires strong men and women at the local level. And by gathering at the shooting range on Saturday night, we expressed our faith in the power of our neighbors. Iron sharpens iron. Trust is not something that is invoked, it is formed by actions, not words.

Because here's the truth about gun culture. Because this joy is rooted in discipline and ritual.

Safety protocols were strictly enforced. Since this was a cold shooting range, all firearms had to be unloaded unless the competitor was instructed to do so by a range official. The rest of the time I was inside the red line and away from the weapon.

Event organizers had notified the sheriff's office that they would be firing shots during the night in case anyone reported gunshots. Probably no one does. Most people were still setting off fireworks every night to celebrate Trump's landslide victory nine days earlier.

The youngest contestant was 16 years old and shot alongside his grandfather. The rest of us are spread out every decade between them. The group included a former pilot, an entrepreneur, a sheriff, and a professional drummer.

For me, rifles are easier to understand than handguns. It feels natural. So I wasn't too nervous for stage 2, but a vague sense of calm lingered in my mind.

The owner of the gun store, where he was the safety officer, was a calm and encouraging person. He told me about a “sweep” where he accidentally pointed his rifle upwards at the men. “Keep your gun pointed forward,” he said, humbly adding that he once got disqualified for this very mistake.

“Please get ready.”

Contains a magazine. Bolt back.

beep.

In stage 2, I began crouching behind the obstacle in a surrender position (hands up, rifle on my back). Lean to the left around the barricade, switch on your flashlight, and fire two shots at the first cardboard target. Then continue to the right towards the next target.

To my relief, the motion felt natural. My anxiety is gone.

Next, lean to the right and fire two shots, then move to the final target: the hostage situation. The “hostage” was a nondescript cardboard cutout of Macaulay Culkin, a man nicknamed Macaulay Culkin, who was being handled by a “terrorist.” The challenge was to hit the bad guys without sending Macaulay flying into Neverland.

Towards the end, we were all talking a lot about space. The moon, adorned with a rainbow-like crown, seemed within reach. A low-flying propeller plane pattered toward the local airport just northwest of the hilltop casino. Everything around us can be graphed by its trajectory and velocity.

Guns have only been around for the past few thousand years. But their lineage runs deeper, and political actors often ignore this reality. The weapon was used before the fire was discovered. Early humans were strapped with spears, clubs, and hammers.

This military mindset accelerated civilization and brought about political order.

Humanity has always progressed at the pace of weapons. Some tools have become popular due to innovation, while others have become popular due to necessity or force. The gun was the latter. A society without them had no choice but to adapt or surrender.

The invention of ships was also the invention of shipwrecks. Guns provide god-like power. Therefore, our treatment of them is have be based on clear moral principles;

Gun culture is misunderstood in this regard. It's not primarily a political movement. It is an intersection with the past and a measure of the technological present. Some collectors find meaning in cars and cameras. Guns are different. They are not just artifacts. They are instruments of life and death, protection and apocalypse.

The final stage required both a rifle and a pistol. We moved to the skeet shooting area on the other side of the range. The entire field was volcanic, densely packed with bright orange clay discs that provided trapping and skeet shooting in place of birds.

Every step destroyed the rubble. “That's the sound of a shattered pigeon,” said the kind extrovert who, like many men, gave me advice and encouragement.

“Maybe we should just do the rifle part,” I suggested. “I don't feel too good about the pistol part.”

“Please don’t,” said the kind extrovert. “It's worth a try. Pistols are work. Rifles are fun. The real competition is against yourself.”

There were two scenarios for the course of the fire, which ended with a target shaped like a goat.

Sparks from bullets bouncing off steel illuminated the darkness. And a red light flashed every time it hit a target.

When my turn came, I surprised myself by hitting all but one of the pistol's targets. The young people cheered.

Then I walked to the left. I crouched down, grabbed my rifle, prepared to fire, and—nothing. The night ended with a rifle jam. Considering how my night started, it was fitting. But this time, it wasn't mindless, it was mechanical. “This is a major failure,” the safety official said. Then he casually helped me fix it.

Pimpin. pin. Now, the finale. I gasped and fired. The bullet grazed the goat, but I ended the night with a goofy smile that matched my friend's expectations.

By the end of the contest, what started as three separate groups had merged into one community. Moments like this are important reminders of a time when we were in a permanent state of revolution. Every civilized society is armed to the teeth.