I don't know why I'm writing this here, since it's absolutely true, but there's a bit of history that needs correcting. I had decided to spread the ol' swimming wings and take a little boat trip a few years back. It may have been sheer stupidity on my part or just bad timing, but I convinced the captain of the boat to let me build an indoor shooting range. By convinced, I really mean, didn't ask and was thus never told "no". A loophole, perhaps, but I get antsy on boats. Anyway, my first 50 rounds shot the bullseye out and I figured another 150 wouldn't hurt anybody, so I continued shooting at the targets I'd laid down on the floor, this time in a long line spanning the length of the deck. It wasn't long before sirens began to sound and pandemonium ensued. Would you believe that my little .357 had perforated this ship and that it was falling apart? I convinced the man who sending out distress signals asking for help of any nearby ships to fib a little on the reasons behind the sinking. By convinced, I mean I knocked him out and sent out a false message. I don't have to tell you my face was red as I hopped onto one of the life-rafts and watched as the ship sank. That boat, my friends, was the Titanic. Whew. It feels so good to get that off of my chest.