Atticus Thraxx
New member
The name of the range and the shooters I'll withhold to protect the stupid, apathetic and just plain weird. Sunday I roll up to my local bang-bang place and experience that little jolt of joy you get when you're the first one and have your pick of stations. And brass scrounging too. Side note, all you guys throwing once fired 30.06 brass all over the place...thank you! Anyways, I get setup, go over and pay for my target and wait patiently. After a little bit, the RO I call Cliff Clavin ( he knows everything about everything, yet nothing at all somehow) comes up on his golf cart and gives me the okay to go place my target. Openly grinning now I head down range and place my target and start heading back. I see the prone station now has a fella in it. The RO is no where to be found. Not quite halfway back I see the guy has a gun case in his hand. I holler and wave a push back with both hands and prone station guy waves back. Now I like a friendly sort, but that was not the reaction I was hoping for. Closer now I ask him to get behind the yellow line, there are people downrange. Prone guy apologized, but he is in violation of the no uncasing until RO says ok/no self clearing rule of this range. Ultimately though the RO is the one I have a case of the ass with. More on that later.
So the first firing period it's just me and prone guy. He's got some kinda space-age rifle with all kinda nonsense strapped to it, but I peaked at his target and it seems to be working.Whatever, it's his money. Now two trucks pull up and start unloading. Five guys start bringing gear to the line and the very first guy, and I sheet you not, had slippers and bright blue pajama(?) bottoms on. Slippers! He was well north of 250lbs so I kept my mouth shut. The next two guys seem okay but then Mad Max comes up rolling a big case. He's got a leather tactical vest on, fingerless gloves, and wait for it...black flip-flops! He goes to the end of the line to setup whatever monstosity is in that case. We get to firing and guy #1 with the pajamas is shooting a banged up Garand and throwing hot brass right at me, my rifle and most importantly my coffee. I stop and ask him if he brought a brass catcher and you'd have thought I'd asked to sleep with his sister. Of course he didn't. I stop, clear and safe my stuff and settle in to wait. On a good day I can out wait a rock. This wasn't one of those days. I get the attention of Cliff Clavin and ask if they have a brass catcher and he blew my mind by coming back with one. I give it to pajama bottoms and when I do, he starts fuddling with it all PO'd like it was a terrible imposition. Grinding my teeth, I say nothing. Now except for smelling what I'm pretty sure was pot smoke in the parking lot, the rest of my Father's Day at the range was uneventful. I shot like crap.
So I clearly attend a substandard range, and here like any public range, there's all kind of shooters. I get that. But there should be only one kind of RO and we don't have that. Now I could confront him. But since he's an expert on everything, my experience is he won't adjust his approach. And I could go report it too I suppose. The former is not likely to change anything as far as I can tell, and the latter goes against my nature.
So I'm starting a crowdfund to build my own range, I'll accept any and all donations. Kick in enough and I'll name a lane after ya!
So the first firing period it's just me and prone guy. He's got some kinda space-age rifle with all kinda nonsense strapped to it, but I peaked at his target and it seems to be working.Whatever, it's his money. Now two trucks pull up and start unloading. Five guys start bringing gear to the line and the very first guy, and I sheet you not, had slippers and bright blue pajama(?) bottoms on. Slippers! He was well north of 250lbs so I kept my mouth shut. The next two guys seem okay but then Mad Max comes up rolling a big case. He's got a leather tactical vest on, fingerless gloves, and wait for it...black flip-flops! He goes to the end of the line to setup whatever monstosity is in that case. We get to firing and guy #1 with the pajamas is shooting a banged up Garand and throwing hot brass right at me, my rifle and most importantly my coffee. I stop and ask him if he brought a brass catcher and you'd have thought I'd asked to sleep with his sister. Of course he didn't. I stop, clear and safe my stuff and settle in to wait. On a good day I can out wait a rock. This wasn't one of those days. I get the attention of Cliff Clavin and ask if they have a brass catcher and he blew my mind by coming back with one. I give it to pajama bottoms and when I do, he starts fuddling with it all PO'd like it was a terrible imposition. Grinding my teeth, I say nothing. Now except for smelling what I'm pretty sure was pot smoke in the parking lot, the rest of my Father's Day at the range was uneventful. I shot like crap.
So I clearly attend a substandard range, and here like any public range, there's all kind of shooters. I get that. But there should be only one kind of RO and we don't have that. Now I could confront him. But since he's an expert on everything, my experience is he won't adjust his approach. And I could go report it too I suppose. The former is not likely to change anything as far as I can tell, and the latter goes against my nature.
So I'm starting a crowdfund to build my own range, I'll accept any and all donations. Kick in enough and I'll name a lane after ya!