Small minority, but I came close to inserting one guy's Ljutic into him like a suppository yesterday. Here's the tale...
I had gone down to PGC yesterday to shoot a few rounds. I ran into another older guy there on my range of choice, we were the only two there tho skeet was taking place next to us on one side,and a couple of guys shooting 27 yard handicap on the other.
The fellow with me was retired,like me, and had dug out his old pump gun to shoot a few rounds. It was the first Polychoke I'd seen in a while. He asked me if I'd mind waiting a minute while he had a cigarette. I OK'd it and he lit up. We talked, and I told him his Sears pump looked like a Winchester 1200, when the Jerk showed up.
He was about our age, late 40s to mid 50s, short,stocky and with a gut. His beard and hair was as salt and pepper'd as mine, and he walked with a really erect posture. The smoker asked him if he minded waiting a minute while he finished his smoke. The Jerk just gave a grunt like he was disgusted with something, leaned over and looked at out pump guns in the rack,and walked off. The smoker and I exchanged glances as he finished his ciggie,and we got up from the bench. The jerk was back with a fancy Ljutic, one of the high priced Bob Allen vests, and his air of impatient superiority. Just to be courteous, I asked the Jerk where he wanted to start. He ignored me and stood behind the line,waiting for us to pick spots. I shrugged and went to #2, the smoker was on 1 and the Jerk picked 4.
The smoker missed his first one, and even through my plugs I could hear the Jerk snort. He didn't snort when he missed tho, which seemed to happen as often for him as it did for us.He kept snorting every time we lost a bird. The round went, and Jerk walked off the line as we did. If I hadn't stopped short when he cut in front of me, I'd have bumped into him and his Ljutic. As he stopped nearby and grabbed another box of shells, the smoker asked me what load I was using. I told him I had just switched to a 1 oz load for economy,when the Jerk interrupted. The Jerk said something about people that couldn't afford good ammo and guns shouldn't bother shooting, and I lost it...
All during this encounter, my knuckles had been itching, a common psychosomatic disorder among Correctional Officers when annoyed or frustrated. And, 20 years plus of working Maximum and Medium Security prisons have left me rather more direct than diplomatic.
And while I know that conversations that start out with, "Listen up,S___head", rarely have positive results, I started out with that anyway. I told him he should have spent his money on etiquette lessons instead of shotguns, his manners were horrible, his shooting was no better than ours and just what he could kiss.Reverting to type, I spoke in the flat and even tone I use on convicted felons.
The light dawned for the Jerk. All of a sudden he realized that someone who wouldn't tolerate his bad manners was nearby, was much larger,didn't seem to care the Jerk was holding a shotgun and was quite obviously PO'd. Without a further word, he left. I watched him all the way to his truck(New,big,red,shiny full sized Dodge) and as he pulled out of the lot.
The smoker had shown good sense, he had moved away a little in case I drew fire. He now lit up another, and I sighed and said that I shouldn't have done that. He nodded, and said that it was probably just what the Jerk needed, a little reality check. Maybe, said I, and we smiled,talked of other things and then shot again.
And the moral(s) to this shabby tale of woe?
First, good manners are not only nice to have, they may keep you out of confrontations.
Second,cussing out folks holding shotguns is not a great idea,even if one gets away with it once.
Finally, I stand in violation of one of my personal rules, McCracken's Axiom of Personal Deportment:
"When someone is being a jerk, it does NOT grant permission for myself or any other person to do likewise"...
Thanks....
I had gone down to PGC yesterday to shoot a few rounds. I ran into another older guy there on my range of choice, we were the only two there tho skeet was taking place next to us on one side,and a couple of guys shooting 27 yard handicap on the other.
The fellow with me was retired,like me, and had dug out his old pump gun to shoot a few rounds. It was the first Polychoke I'd seen in a while. He asked me if I'd mind waiting a minute while he had a cigarette. I OK'd it and he lit up. We talked, and I told him his Sears pump looked like a Winchester 1200, when the Jerk showed up.
He was about our age, late 40s to mid 50s, short,stocky and with a gut. His beard and hair was as salt and pepper'd as mine, and he walked with a really erect posture. The smoker asked him if he minded waiting a minute while he finished his smoke. The Jerk just gave a grunt like he was disgusted with something, leaned over and looked at out pump guns in the rack,and walked off. The smoker and I exchanged glances as he finished his ciggie,and we got up from the bench. The jerk was back with a fancy Ljutic, one of the high priced Bob Allen vests, and his air of impatient superiority. Just to be courteous, I asked the Jerk where he wanted to start. He ignored me and stood behind the line,waiting for us to pick spots. I shrugged and went to #2, the smoker was on 1 and the Jerk picked 4.
The smoker missed his first one, and even through my plugs I could hear the Jerk snort. He didn't snort when he missed tho, which seemed to happen as often for him as it did for us.He kept snorting every time we lost a bird. The round went, and Jerk walked off the line as we did. If I hadn't stopped short when he cut in front of me, I'd have bumped into him and his Ljutic. As he stopped nearby and grabbed another box of shells, the smoker asked me what load I was using. I told him I had just switched to a 1 oz load for economy,when the Jerk interrupted. The Jerk said something about people that couldn't afford good ammo and guns shouldn't bother shooting, and I lost it...
All during this encounter, my knuckles had been itching, a common psychosomatic disorder among Correctional Officers when annoyed or frustrated. And, 20 years plus of working Maximum and Medium Security prisons have left me rather more direct than diplomatic.
And while I know that conversations that start out with, "Listen up,S___head", rarely have positive results, I started out with that anyway. I told him he should have spent his money on etiquette lessons instead of shotguns, his manners were horrible, his shooting was no better than ours and just what he could kiss.Reverting to type, I spoke in the flat and even tone I use on convicted felons.
The light dawned for the Jerk. All of a sudden he realized that someone who wouldn't tolerate his bad manners was nearby, was much larger,didn't seem to care the Jerk was holding a shotgun and was quite obviously PO'd. Without a further word, he left. I watched him all the way to his truck(New,big,red,shiny full sized Dodge) and as he pulled out of the lot.
The smoker had shown good sense, he had moved away a little in case I drew fire. He now lit up another, and I sighed and said that I shouldn't have done that. He nodded, and said that it was probably just what the Jerk needed, a little reality check. Maybe, said I, and we smiled,talked of other things and then shot again.
And the moral(s) to this shabby tale of woe?
First, good manners are not only nice to have, they may keep you out of confrontations.
Second,cussing out folks holding shotguns is not a great idea,even if one gets away with it once.
Finally, I stand in violation of one of my personal rules, McCracken's Axiom of Personal Deportment:
"When someone is being a jerk, it does NOT grant permission for myself or any other person to do likewise"...
Thanks....