Yesterday my roommate Dan approached me and asked if I’d like to go to the shooting range to go “sight” his new scope on his rifle. Thinking it would be interesting to see what a shooting range is like, I went. OH GOD. It was ridiculous. As Dan puts it, it’s “a cultural experience.” There were these two Hispanic men in the booth left of us shooting 9mms and .45s, and ever once in a while unloaded a shotgun (with Winchester ammo). In the booth to the right of these were three Japanese people: a lady and two men who were having a joyous time firing revolvers. The poor lady was so small that every time she shot the revolver she must have recoiled two feet. I actually did shoot Dan’s rifle, a Ruger .22, which felt quite a bit like the bb guns that I had played with when I lived in Pennsylvania. In all it was an interesting experience, where the store employees (or “range masters” as they like to call themselves) had side-holstered pistols with spare clips on the other side.