Michael's "All American Day!"
After our success in showing our Swedish friend Tijuana, "How could we follow it up?" we thought to ourselves. What else could we offer to show the experience of America? Granted Michael has been on tour throughout the U.S on and off since 2007,but sometimes touring life leaves details of real life out of the mix.
"Guns!" we gleefully exclaimed. There are few guns in Sweden and arms of the pistol/handgun variety are often banned because they are not used in hunting for food.
With that we told Michael we would take him on an "All American Adventure" the following day and he immediately got excited about what we may have in store for him. We met up at high noon and hopped onto our trusty white steed (in this case a rental Dodge Caliber). Reading the wind and tracing tracks, as our ancestors may have in the old west, we made our way to Walmart an American treasure of infamous reputation like that of and Wild Bill Hickock. Rushing to the hunting and fishing section we were disappointed to find there were no 9mm cartridges. Only 12 gauge shotgun shells.
To the gun store! Michael appeared wide eyed over the glass counter containing all manor of handgun machinery. 9mm,357 magnums, 22 Colts, and mini little purse guns from the 30's and 40's which particularly held his attention. Sure they only hold five bullets, but it would fit in a clown nose. We pointed out the selection of pistol grip shotguns and wicked looking black rifles and pulled him out the door, ammo in hand, for our next destination.
The "Amercian Shooting Center Indoor Range" would be the setting for the mountaintop initiation of our Swedish brother.
Visibly nervous about what to expect, Michael was quickly given a quick interview by me for my video camera and we made our way up to the counter to order our firearm. The Glock 17: a 9 millimeter gun would be the perfect guru for our experience. This 9mm handgun is common in law enforcement as well as criminal activity and would therefore be a splendid balance of the forces of light and dark for our adventure ahead.
The woman behind the counter was very excited to hear we had brought a Swedish person to experience the feeling of self defense and power related to gun ownership and the fun of shooting practice. Eye protection in place and ear covered we made our way through the sound locking chamber into the shooting area itself. I placed the paper target and showed Michael how to load the clip and take aim. Shots echoed throughout the building from all of the other lanes, which were full this day.
In no time at all this entertainer who had never really SEEN a gun much less fired one, was shooting with accuracy and breathing deep the sensation of strength and adrenaline which accompanies a great day at the shooting range.
(For the record Michael likes to shoot in the heart whereas I am more of a head man myself.)
No time to rest on our laurels now! We headed to our next location. Bowling!
Yes, I know bowling is not distinctively American, but the iconic stereotype of a pudgy white American couple in matching shirts, pants, and shoes drinking beer suitably fills our needs for the day.
Michael introduced us to a strange technique of bowling where he runs down towards the line and eventually falls sliding on his chest down the lane releasing the ball at the last second. ( I am still not sure this is an actual Swedish technique or just the effect of mixing adrenaline from shooting firearms with alcohol and bowling balls.) We each got a few strikes and returned to our habitation for more pizza and beer capping off our wonderful day.
It can be summarized as spoken by Michael himself: "Today I learned that shooting a gun is just like bowling except the ball is smaller and (I added) you aim for a piece of paper that looks like a human as opposed to small pins."
"Guns!" we gleefully exclaimed. There are few guns in Sweden and arms of the pistol/handgun variety are often banned because they are not used in hunting for food.
With that we told Michael we would take him on an "All American Adventure" the following day and he immediately got excited about what we may have in store for him. We met up at high noon and hopped onto our trusty white steed (in this case a rental Dodge Caliber). Reading the wind and tracing tracks, as our ancestors may have in the old west, we made our way to Walmart an American treasure of infamous reputation like that of and Wild Bill Hickock. Rushing to the hunting and fishing section we were disappointed to find there were no 9mm cartridges. Only 12 gauge shotgun shells.
To the gun store! Michael appeared wide eyed over the glass counter containing all manor of handgun machinery. 9mm,357 magnums, 22 Colts, and mini little purse guns from the 30's and 40's which particularly held his attention. Sure they only hold five bullets, but it would fit in a clown nose. We pointed out the selection of pistol grip shotguns and wicked looking black rifles and pulled him out the door, ammo in hand, for our next destination.
The "Amercian Shooting Center Indoor Range" would be the setting for the mountaintop initiation of our Swedish brother.
Visibly nervous about what to expect, Michael was quickly given a quick interview by me for my video camera and we made our way up to the counter to order our firearm. The Glock 17: a 9 millimeter gun would be the perfect guru for our experience. This 9mm handgun is common in law enforcement as well as criminal activity and would therefore be a splendid balance of the forces of light and dark for our adventure ahead.
The woman behind the counter was very excited to hear we had brought a Swedish person to experience the feeling of self defense and power related to gun ownership and the fun of shooting practice. Eye protection in place and ear covered we made our way through the sound locking chamber into the shooting area itself. I placed the paper target and showed Michael how to load the clip and take aim. Shots echoed throughout the building from all of the other lanes, which were full this day.
In no time at all this entertainer who had never really SEEN a gun much less fired one, was shooting with accuracy and breathing deep the sensation of strength and adrenaline which accompanies a great day at the shooting range.
(For the record Michael likes to shoot in the heart whereas I am more of a head man myself.)
No time to rest on our laurels now! We headed to our next location. Bowling!
Yes, I know bowling is not distinctively American, but the iconic stereotype of a pudgy white American couple in matching shirts, pants, and shoes drinking beer suitably fills our needs for the day.
Michael introduced us to a strange technique of bowling where he runs down towards the line and eventually falls sliding on his chest down the lane releasing the ball at the last second. ( I am still not sure this is an actual Swedish technique or just the effect of mixing adrenaline from shooting firearms with alcohol and bowling balls.) We each got a few strikes and returned to our habitation for more pizza and beer capping off our wonderful day.
It can be summarized as spoken by Michael himself: "Today I learned that shooting a gun is just like bowling except the ball is smaller and (I added) you aim for a piece of paper that looks like a human as opposed to small pins."
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