I don’t like guns and it was awesome.

I was reminded the other day of the time I traveled to Alabama many years ago for a good friend’s wedding. It was a solid turnout from the college crew and since we were already scattered all over the country, we had a great time catching up in Huntsville.

The morning of the ceremony, we were all finishing up breakfast at the hotel and trying to figure out what we wanted to do that day. I was trying to get good at golf at the time (side note: I’ll always be trying to get good at golf. Man, I suck at golf.) so I said, ”Hey, let’s find a shooting range…ha, no, I mean driving range…and go hit some balls.”

It was too late. Wil, who was in ROTC all through college, was already out of his seat and running to the concierge to ask for the nearest shooting range.

Me: “Wait, no! I meant driving range. Driving range! Golf!”
Wil: “Nope! You said shooting! We’re going shooting!”

Welp. I guess we were going shooting.

So here’s the deal: nothing political, but I wasn’t raised around guns so I never really cared for them. But this isn’t about guns, it’s about something else…

Larry’s Guns & Pawn

This place. It’s a real place. We went to this place.

As me and my buddies walked into this gun shop/shooting range/jewelry pawn shop owned by someone named Larry, it was as if a record player screeched to a stop. Yeah hi. We were from out of town.

The room wasn’t huge, but it wasn’t the size of the room that was noteworthy, it was the amount of guns in the room. There were a lot. All kinds. I’ve never seen this many guns at the same time, in person, in my life — before or since. Also, it was eerily quiet. Like the kind of quiet that makes you want to whisper even though you don’t really need to.

I was so far out of my element that I couldn’t even see my element from where I was. I’ve been around this many guitars before, no big deal. But these were guns. Real ones. Rows and rows of all kinds of rifles, shotguns, pistols, associated gear, etc. We scattered around the room, each trying to look like we knew what we were doing and failing miserably. Except for Wil, of course.

All of a sudden, the eery silence was broken. CHKK-CCHHKK! I jumped. Literally, jumped. Feet off the ground. I turned around and Fitz’s wife had picked up a shotgun and cocked it. My heart was racing and I immediately started laughing.

“Ummmm, can I help any of you?” asked Larry.

I asked about renting guns and buying bullets. He stared at me for just an extra second too long before sighing loudly and correcting me. “Son, we prefer the terms ‘weapon’ and ‘ammunition,’ not ‘guns’ and ‘bullets.’”

Dude. Fine. Relax. Whatever.

Within minutes, we were all locked and loaded. We went back to the shooting range with gu…er…weapons in hand. I was feeling a weird mix of giddy, nervous, and a healthy dose of scared. We were met by a guy in overalls who walked out of the range into the hall to meet us. He said nothing. Stared directly at each of us. Then he proceeded to stick surgical tweezers into his ear to which I audibly said, “What the f**k?!?”

He pulled out earplugs from each ear and stuck them in his pocket. I mean, I’m a drummer and wore earplugs on the reg, but not so much that my ear canals were so stretched out that I needed hospital-grade tweezers to extract them from my head. Where_the_hell_were_we.

This was already super weird…

And we hadn’t even pulled a trigger yet.

We finally went to shoot. I was awful until my buddy, Rafi, told me to “squeeze” the trigger instead of “pulling” the trigger. I didn’t know what that meant, but whatever I did, it started working. I was hitting the target — the kind of target that was shaped like a person, which is super weird and I’m not even going to get into that right now.

We left soon thereafter and you know what, I loved it. I don’t think it was the guns. I don’t think it was how I improved with some guidance. And I don’t think it was because of any feelings of power it might have given me. Power over a paper target isn’t hard to achieve and seriously, why are those shaped like a person? Sorry…moving on…

I think it was because I was out of my element and instead of desperately trying to find my way back into familiarity, I tried something new while I was temporarily out there. I wasn’t satisfied just for being out, I needed to do something while I was out. It’s not always easy, but I will say that it’s MUCH easier when you’re in good company. Friends have a way of turning an “uncomfortable situation” into a “shared experience.”

Don’t just get out, do something.

I recall times like that more often these days, especially as I continue to build a business venture from scratch. Being in your element is good, and we all know that being out of your element can also be good, but doing something when you’re out is where lessons are learned. You don’t have to like what you’re doing, but you should take time and recognize that you did it. If nothing else, you earned the right to have an opinion on something.

That’s why I try to push myself outside of my element at least once a day. It can be writing copy, making that phone call, sending a cold FB message or email, figuring out some simple HTML code, or even trying to learn Steve Gadd’s drum beat for Paul Simon’s “50 Ways to Leave Your Lover.” That beat, you guys, what the hell.

We should all have our own Wil that pulls us out of our comfort zone, and our own Rafi that can offer some guidance while we’re out there.

Also, if you ever get to a shooting range and it’s your first time, don’t hold the gun sideways like a gangster and scream “Whattup now, foo?!” before shooting. It’s frowned upon. Just trust me on that one.

#bewhatyoumake