After exams last December, I needed a release from the ache of frustration. I had brought myself to the very brink of insanity by mentally dissecting the week's events over and over. A disorienting sensation trickled through the folds of my brain, and I knew that I had to do something to cope. With my mind unsettled, I did what any red-blooded American would do to regain his or her composure: I shot a gun.
Of course, this was an odd choice of recreational activities for this American. Doing a personal inventory, the only thing I have that is red is my politics. In the midst of the Senate debate over the Brady Bill, I wrote scads of columns in my high school newspaper in favor of gun control, caustically chastising those who confused legions of nut cases brandishing "street sweepers" with a "well-armed militia." Nevertheless, when my friends called and said "Guess what we're doing Friday?" I stepped outside of my former self and said "cool."
Our quest for firearms took us far a field, to Liberty-a hamlet south of Burlington-and a rifle and pistol range called "Handgunners." This place provided reasonably priced pistol rentals and free safety lessons, courtesy of a local law enforcement officer. Accompanying the shooting lesson was a short history lecture about how firearms have been the bedrock of our society and its freedoms. I bit my lip and politely absorbed his right-wing ravings while my friends nervously looked in my direction, desiring only my silence. Rather than question him about why our Founding Fathers neglected to provide their slaves with the right to bear arms, I decided to avoid angering the man holding a .45 caliber hand cannon.
Anyway, it was soon time to shoot the gun.
The pistol was not the pea-shooting "Saturday night special" that I expected. The instructor handed four college students with little or no shooting experience (save a 30-minute lesson) a .45 caliber, police-issue pistol. I've got to tell you-I was scared. I know that this excursion might sound like a typical student prank, like driving 30 minutes to shoot guns is tantamount to a beach road trip or a pub crawl. And, to a certain extent, our attitude was pretty silly, but as soon as I curled my fingers around the cold steel of that killing tool, I started to fear its clicking hammer, its tender trigger and its bucking recoil.
With the gun in my hand, I was hyperconscious of the fact that I could now blow a gaping hole through someone's chest. It terrified me, and I concentrated all of my energy on following the directions of my instructor to the letter. I nervously checked and double-checked my fingers for the correct placement on the handle and touched the safety switch multiple times before handing it to the next shooter.
At the same time, I was experiencing just the type of release that brought me to that gun range. Firing that gun made me feel good, even as I shuddered with each blast. My friends and I basically obliterated target after target as we shot through two boxes of ammunition. Call it juvenile, but I enjoyed destroying that piece of paper, just like I used to enjoy knocking down rows of dominoes and toy soldiers in my basement 15 years ago.
Still, this was a handgun I was playing with, not my G.I. Joes. No matter how closely I followed the safety rules, the fact remained that I was just messing around, shooting at a target with a deadly weapon. My experience with shooting-and its potential for disaster-left me feeling queasy when the initial waves of adrenaline dissipated.
I found myself asking, "Does anyone in this country really need this type of thrill?" Breathing in the acrid gunpowder and swelling with an inflated sense of my own power, I felt how shooting that gun could easily become addictive. Like any drug, recreational shooting should be treated like a controlled substance. If anything, gun controls are far too lax in this country. Firearms are too often not stored properly in the home and they too often go off unpredictably. For home defense, they are a poor substitute for a decent alarm system and a dog. We have seen time and time again how having a gun in a house with teenage children acts as a catalyst for tragic suicides and violent outbursts.
Guns are OK for police officers and soldiers. Handguns are legal, but we don't exactly need to keep King George III off our backs these days. They are an unnecessary threat to our safety. Any of the current pieces of proposed gun control legislation advocating background checks for prospective buyers and a national firearms registry would be a step in the right direction.
Recreational shooting is unfortunately not an oxymoron. However, it is serious business that should be left up to professionals. Next time I want to blow off some steam, I think I will head out to a batting cage to hit some baseballs instead.
David Margolis is a Trinity senior.
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