Everyone should die looking Glamorous...

As of October 1st, the "No Retreat" law went into effect in Florida. Now, I don't know about you, but I am a big retreater, I'm all about retreating. I'm like, "Hey buddy, lemme go over here, and retreat." But other people, not so much. They like to stand their ground. Somebody's trying to stab them, they would like to stab them back. Better yet, somebody is trying to shoot them, they might want to shoot them back. Me, I would probably just try to run.

Now, in lieu of this whole "No Retreat" business I did start thinking, what does a girl who hates guns, who has always been terrified, I mean PETRIFIED of guns, do. What if one night, I accidentally bump into a girl at a club and said girl is drunk. And what if said drunk girl is so belligerent she starts yelling at me. I would apologize, profusely of course. But what if this wasn't enough for said angry, drunk, belligerent girl. What if she called her boyfriend over who is also drunk and belligerent and said I was being rude, and what if my boyfriend then saw her boyfriend yelling at me or worse, grabbing me. And what if then my boyfriend punched angry drunk guy. Then we all get thrown out. Then we are walking to our car, and them to theirs and suddenly angry drunk guy walks up to us and has a gun in my boyfriends face. UH OH. This is where this no retreat law is all foggy for me. Is he defending himself since he was punched? Now what do we do….Oh, I HATE guns, this whole thing is making me sick!! But this is Miami. THINGS LIKE THIS HAPPEN. Which led the boyfriend and I to the following conversation.

"Guns don't kill people. People kill people."He stated.

"Oh that is so cliché." I said.

"Maybe. But it's true. You're such an idealist. This is the real world and Miami is like the Wild Wild South. I'm taking you to the Gun Range." He ordered.

"The what?"

"The Gun Range. Tomorrow. You are going to learn to shoot a gun. You've got to learn to protect yourself god forbid something happens."

Okay, who even knew they had those out here. Me, at a gun range. This would be a joke. In fact I thought it was a joke. Surely the boyfriend was just trying to make me sweat all night and then he would forget all about in the morning.

Wishful thinking.

My first concern was wardrobe, I mean, what do you wear to a Gun Range. Okay, so maybe this would not be everyone's main concern, but I was SURE that the gun would backfire and I would kill myself. If I was going to die, I at least wanted to be well dressed. Everyone should die Glamorous. I decided to dress for the occasion in my fatigue capri's, an army green wifebeater and black stiletto’s. We drove to Big Al's Gun and Pawn shop in Hallendale Beach. The Boyfriend rented a 9mm Glock, I was informed this is the gun police officers use, we purchased eyes and ears, ( I thought that sounded cute) and our targets. My hands were already shaking as I could hear the Pop, Pop, Popping going off upstairs. As we ventured up the staircase and I looked into the actual gun range it was PACKED, there were men, women, and even children. I couldn't believe it. All of these people….. shooting guns. My whole life, I've been staunchly against guns…. a liberal anti-gun activist now standing in the middle of a gun range between a 12 year old boy and an 18 year old girl as they both fire away. As the boyfriend loaded up the gun my pulse raced, I already suffer from tachycardia, or rapid heartbeat. I searched frantically for my heart medicine. I can't find it. Crap. I'm so not cut out for this. I like to lay on the beach and watch reality television. And what's making this whole thing worse is this little kid next to me is busting away and smirking at me like, "Ha, you chicken shit, I'm twelve." That's the only thing that got me going, I don't like anyone testing my womanhood. I decided at that point, politics aside, I was going to do this. I needed to conquer my fear, no pre-pubescent was going to show me up. I was going to show him I was nobody's punk. See, I was already acting like a republican…….

The boyfriend gently guided me to stand in front of him. I picked up the gun with my right hand, then used my left as a base, held it….. then I put it down. I couldn't do it. I was too scared. I stepped away and shook my arms. Mini Rambo smirked at me and I turned around and picked it back up. I was going to do this. The boyfriend put his arms on mine for added help, one, two, three……. I squeezed.

Holy Crap………….. That was loud.

But I did it again. And again and again, until it wouldn't shoot anymore.

The boyfriend loaded more bullets into the clip and made me go again.

When I was finished I looked at Mini Rambo and he was just staring. Then he kind of blew a kiss at me. Eww. A handshake would have been better. When we pulled up my shooting targets I had actually done very well. I'm not afraid to admit there was something empowering about the experience. I had at least momentarily conquered my fear, and didn't completely suck. It was nice to share in something the boyfriend grew up enjoying, even if shooting guns as a childhood pastime seemed completely insane to me, but then I grew up in the North, in the city….. not much about the south does make sense to me. Anyway, as we paid up our tab downstairs we saw an advertisement for a women's defense class.

"Would you like to sign up?" I was asked by the cashier.

"I don't know. I have to think about it."

"Miami is a dangerous place. Where ya from?"

"New York."

"Oh yeah…… things are different down here. Huh."

"Well, it seems like every other person down here has a gun…"

"Oh some people have two or three."

On the ride home I had a lot to think about. I was still very afraid of guns. But I was a little closer to understanding them. And I know that if I am to live in a state that seemingly allows anyone with a driver's license to own one then maybe it's a good thing I at least know how to use one. I don't know. I do think every woman should go to the range at least once. I mean, did you see Angelina in Mr. And Mrs. Smith……