Curious things seen at local gun shop or shooting range

[RJ]

Just got back from the range by my in-laws. While working on some accuracy fundamentals with my sister-in-law, a couple arrives in the lane to our left. As their target reaches their preferred distance, I see a red laser appear and start dancing around on the paper. After a few rounds, which were all over the place, I overhear the husband complaining about he doesn't think the laser is accurate.

That happens to me seemingly every range trip.

Guy this last Monday had a laser as he set up at five yards (the minimum distance). Target ended up looking like it was hit by buckshot. It is kinda distracting but it's just part of the fun and games of shooting at the public range. Unless it's safety related, I just get on with trying to accomplish what I came for.

I do get more than a few stares as I run my B8s out to 25 yards. Mind you, I can only maybe get 7 or 8 out of 10 rounds scoring on paper (PR = 83-0X). But it's fairly clear most folks can't comprehend the concept of scoring a target at 75 feet.

What I really enjoy though is being next to the camo-pant rifle dude with 86 things mounted on his AR Rail, and me getting better scores than him with my subcompact pistol.


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[1911nerd]

It has been a while since I've been to a public range, but today did not disappoint. I was running a bolt .308 but most on the nearby benches seemed to be running ARs. The guy at the next bench over to the left was fairly typical of what you might expect: a no-name AR with a 20x scope set up to shoot at the 50yd line and not just to get on the paper. After banging away with that for a while he pulled out a surplus bolt gun. I couldn't see what it was, but it appeared to be a 9.3x62. Anyway, he'd fuss with the bolt, jam on it hard, and every third round or so partially extract and then toss the loaded round down range. After seeing him repeat this several times, I watched as he finally extracted and ejected a loaded round at my feet. Only problem was, the loaded round was very clearly embedded through the base of a case that had had its case head torn off.

[fixer]

This thread makes me so glad I'm fortunate enough have local ranges where I can practice in my own outdoor bay. Unfortunately even that isn't always enough... Here are four examples of "curious things seen at the range".

1. Brass rat

I was practicing at my home range, in one of the outdoor bays. The bay is ~50’ long and 30’ wide. I had set up 3 USPSA metric targets and was working on shooting into and out of position at 15 yds. I guess I was really in the zone, because my situational awareness was disturbingly low. I didn’t realize anyone was in the bay with me until I heard something behind me. I looked back--there was a guy crouching down right behind me! I backed up and yelled “What the FUCK are you doing???” It was truly ancient dude picking up my brass and putting it into a sack. He said, “Oh, do you want your brass?” Before I sent him on his way, I made him pour out the contents of the bag, which he argued about because he claimed the brass hadn’t all come from my gun. Note to self: check your 6 more often.

Dude...same thing here except, and I kid you freaking not--guy goes right into the line of fire in the middle of my string of shooting.

This is an outdoor range and the brass rats are as common as the lizards out here in the desert. There is no active RO either.

So like you I enquire into the dumbfuckery. I was told that he is just going to pick up some brass. "I'm just gonna pick up this brass here and I'll be done"

I expressed my serious reserve and incredulousness.

He just kept on picking up every single damn brass casing. Completely ignored me. This guys was a real headcase. I backed all the way out of the lane and just watched. Even after he left (45 minutes) I was watching my 6 like a street cop in Compton.

It took 45 minutes for him to leave. I wasn't gonna go hands on. It wasn't worth it but damn what an impudent ass.

I attempted to call the range office but they were closed that day.

This was literally the dumbest thing I've ever seen personally at the range.

On the positive side, I got to practice a real life shoot, no shoot scenario.

[blues]

As I've said before...it sucks when the only safe place to train is inside your walk-in closet.

I try to stay away from public / indoor ranges as much as I possibly can except to qualify annually for LEOSA.

Thankfully, around here there are ample sites on private property to shoot with friends and neighbors.

[Kyle Reese]

Dude...same thing here except, and I kid you freaking not--guy goes right into the line of fire in the middle of my string of shooting.

This is an outdoor range and the brass rats are as common as the lizards out here in the desert. There is no active RO either.

So like you I enquire into the dumbfuckery. I was told that he is just going to pick up some brass. "I'm just gonna pick up this brass here and I'll be done"

I expressed my serious reserve and incredulousness.

He just kept on picking up every single damn brass casing. Completely ignored me. This guys was a real headcase. I backed all the way out of the lane and just watched. Even after he left (45 minutes) I was watching my 6 like a street cop in Compton.

It took 45 minutes for him to leave. I wasn't gonna go hands on. It wasn't worth it but damn what an impudent ass.

I attempted to call the range office but they were closed that day.

This was literally the dumbest thing I've ever seen personally at the range.

On the positive side, I got to practice a real life shoot, no shoot scenario.

I'm shooting nothing but Russian steel-cased 9x19 for practice now, and I wish I still had some of the Danish HMAK 9x19 that I picked up in the mid-00's. Beautiful brass cased ammo, but Berdan primed. Perfect comeuppance for brass thieves.

[Lost River]

The indoor range I shoot at holds your driver's license on a peg board in the office until you are done with your lane. They showed me a guy's license where he put a piece of tape on the back and wrote "I am a paranoid schitsophrenic and have delusions." (Spelling recreation may be a touch off, but it was definitely misspelled) It was just written with an ink pen. Seemed...odd.

I've also walked in on this conversation:
Clerk: I can't sell you a gun, you reek of weed.
Sum Dood: That ain't weed.
Clerk: Dood, it's weed. I can't sell you a gun.
Sum Dood: *bitch fit about how it's something that's totally not weed but just smells like weed*
Clerk: Detective, what do you think? Does this guy smell like weed to you?
Sum Dood scoots toward the door and disappears.
Clerk: Regular lane?

That is actually a smart move by the guy with the mental health problems. Probably knows that eventually he will have a relapse and not be in his right mind. That piece of info on his driver's license may be massively important for a first responder, especially a newer, younger officer who does not have much experience dealing with such folks. The schizophrenic has likely been down the rabbit hole a few times, and is trying to plan ahead.

It is extremely hard to differentiate between paranoid schizophrenia and meth psychosis. Deep into a psychosis, a person suffering may have no way to communicate rationally their personal situation.

I had one older female who had some very serious long term mental health issues, and was extremely violent when suffering from her delusions. She actually believed that people she may encounter were honest to God, Demons.

I was the only person who had had any success with her. She was phenomenally trying on a guy's patience, and probably the single most frustrating person I had dealt with in years. More than a few times we had to physically subdue her, basically hogtie her, so she wouldn't kick windows out of a patrolman's car. We would then take her to the ER, where a nurse or doc would give her a shot of Haldol in her ass. She would even try to urinate on first responders. I think the technical diagnosis by an ER doc friend was "Batshit crazy".

One thing that really worked (sometimes) with her, was that I had a sticky note on my computer at work, and would call her every week after a morning meeting and check on her. This was mostly so she would recognize my voice. During a moment of lucidity, I had her sign a waiver that allowed me to look at her medical records and discuss her condition with her regular docs/therapists.

Believe it or not, I had to get over some barriers with the medical folks in order to convince them that I was actually an advocate for her, and not trying to lock her up, or put charges on her.

One thing I did, and subsequently taught (I used to teach an annual 40 hour CIT crisis intervention team academy) was that I had given "Dorothy" my business card, that she kept tacked up on her fridge. On the back of the card, I had written "Friend/Advocate". This helped sometimes to convince her that I was trying to help, instead of harm her.

Schizophrenics/ schizo affective types can be a phenomenal challenge, and there is often very little reward. That said, I am convinced that every department needs a few experienced officers who are willing to deal with such headaches and learn how to deal with the folks who suffer, the medical community, and the legal aspects. It is a royal pain, and not nearly as glamorous as swat, or other "look at me" specialties. It is also a thinking person's skill set, that requires constant, continuing education.

Dorothy ended up being a rare success story. Working with prosecutors and docs, I ended up making her a ward of the state. In a very brief interim, I ended up being legally in charge of her, which I told everyone involved (including the judge) that I was morally and ethically opposed to an LEO or LE agency filling such a role, as it set a bad precedent, and it was a role better served by a person in the medical community. The problem was that nobody wanted to deal with her. I was told by that same judge that that was exactly why he was making me her interim charge.

Through hurdles we transferred that authority to the state. Start to finish, I want to say that part took a bit over a year. Neither myself or anyone in the prosecutor's office had ever done something like that before, so we had to learn how to do it along the way.

It all finally worked out, and now she has a person who visits her and makes sure she takes her medicines every single day. Before she would get feeling better and stop taking her meds, thus spiraling down the rabbit hole.

We went from dozens of calls a month from/involving "Dorothy" to no calls for over a year and a half.

I was exceptionally relieved to be done with that case.

[okie john]

That is actually a smart move by the guy with the mental health problems. Probably knows that eventually he will have a relapse and not be in his right mind. That piece of info on his driver's license may be massively important for a first responder, especially a newer, younger officer who does not have much experience dealing with such folks. The schizophrenic has likely been down the rabbit hole a few times, and is trying to plan ahead.

It is extremely hard to differentiate between paranoid schizophrenia and meth psychosis. Deep into a psychosis, a person suffering may have no way to communicate rationally their personal situation.

I had one older female who had some very serious long term mental health issues, and was extremely violent when suffering from her delusions. She actually believed that people she may encounter were honest to God, Demons.

I was the only person who had had any success with her. She was phenomenally trying on a guy's patience, and probably the single most frustrating person I had dealt with in years. More than a few times we had to physically subdue her, basically hogtie her, so she wouldn't kick windows out of a patrolman's car. We would then take her to the ER, where a nurse or doc would give her a shot of Haldol in her ass. She would even try to urinate on first responders. I think the technical diagnosis by an ER doc friend was "Batshit crazy".

One thing that really worked (sometimes) with her, was that I had a sticky note on my computer at work, and would call her every week after a morning meeting and check on her. This was mostly so she would recognize my voice. During a moment of lucidity, I had her sign a waiver that allowed me to look at her medical records and discuss her condition with her regular docs/therapists.

Believe it or not, I had to get over some barriers with the medical folks in order to convince them that I was actually an advocate for her, and not trying to lock her up, or put charges on her.

One thing I did, and subsequently taught (I used to teach an annual 40 hour CIT crisis intervention team academy) was that I had given "Dorothy" my business card, that she kept tacked up on her fridge. On the back of the card, I had written "Friend/Advocate". This helped sometimes to convince her that I was trying to help, instead of harm her.

Schizophrenics/ schizo affective types can be a phenomenal challenge, and there is often very little reward. That said, I am convinced that every department needs a few experienced officers who are willing to deal with such headaches and learn how to deal with the folks who suffer, the medical community, and the legal aspects. It is a royal pain, and not nearly as glamorous as swat, or other "look at me" specialties. It is also a thinking person's skill set, that requires constant, continuing education.

Dorothy ended up being a rare success story. Working with prosecutors and docs, I ended up making her a ward of the state. In a very brief interim, I ended up being legally in charge of her, which I told everyone involved (including the judge) that I was morally and ethically opposed to an LEO or LE agency filling such a role, as it set a bad precedent, and it was a role better served by a person in the medical community. The problem was that nobody wanted to deal with her. I was told by that same judge that that was exactly why he was making me her interim charge.

Through hurdles we transferred that authority to the state. Start to finish, I want to say that part took a bit over a year. Neither myself or anyone in the prosecutor's office had ever done something like that before, so we had to learn how to do it along the way.

It all finally worked out, and now she has a person who visits her and makes sure she takes her medicines every single day. Before she would get feeling better and stop taking her meds, thus spiraling down the rabbit hole.

We went from dozens of calls a month from/involving "Dorothy" to no calls for over a year and a half.

I was exceptionally relieved to be done with that case.

You truly did the Lord's work here.


Okie John

[MichaelD]

You truly did the Lord's work here.


Okie John

I second that.

[Clusterfrack]

Dude...same thing here except, and I kid you freaking not--guy goes right into the line of fire in the middle of my string of shooting.

This is an outdoor range and the brass rats are as common as the lizards out here in the desert. There is no active RO either.

So like you I enquire into the dumbfuckery. I was told that he is just going to pick up some brass. "I'm just gonna pick up this brass here and I'll be done"

I expressed my serious reserve and incredulousness.

He just kept on picking up every single damn brass casing. Completely ignored me. This guys was a real headcase. I backed all the way out of the lane and just watched. Even after he left (45 minutes) I was watching my 6 like a street cop in Compton.

It took 45 minutes for him to leave. I wasn't gonna go hands on. It wasn't worth it but damn what an impudent ass.

I attempted to call the range office but they were closed that day.

This was literally the dumbest thing I've ever seen personally at the range.

On the positive side, I got to practice a real life shoot, no shoot scenario.

Unbefuckinglievable. We had a number of similar incidents after mine happened, and the ROs now have a policy that (imagine this) people who are actually shooting have priority over brass collectors. I've had to call the ROs twice to evict brass rats from bays.

[ragnar_d]

Ugh. I fucking hate brass rats. I was RO'ing a squad at a local match down in FL when I probably came closest to stick one into a berm head first.

Typical USPSA local match stuff, help paste when you weren't up to shoot, help paint/reset steel, etc. etc. Everyone was doing their part . . . except for one guy. He must have thought he was on the Super Squad or something. Spent 2-3 shooters getting ready and then 2-3 shooters squaring away his gear after. On top of that, despite my suggestions that he assist his squad mates, he decided he wanted to spend all day picking up brass with his little pickup tool instead of trying to get everyone through and gone (it was July or August . . . there's plenty of motivation to get done fast). Didn't matter what it was, if it hit the ground he scrounged it up . . ..38 Super, .40, 9, .45 . . . into his little bucket it went. Tried to suggest that he help out but why should Mr. I Been Doin' This for Years pay heed to a 25 year old RO.

Then we got to the last stage and as myself and my buddy were getting ready to run the squad through he comes up for a little discussion
Douchebag: "Hey, can I shoot first. I'd like to leave as soon as possible."
*internal record scratch/party stopping moment*
Me: "'Scuse me?"
D:"I was hoping you could put me first so I could shoot and leave."
Me:"I don't think so. Match director gave the RO's direction that everyone on the squad stays to help break down the stage after the match unless they have an urgent need to leave for something. Otherwise,I'm to lose the scoresheet on the way to the shack. I don't think pussing out is a valid reason."
D: *Starts to stammer out a protest*
Me: "Hey, if you had helped out and busted ass like everyone else in the squad did, we'd probably have be done sooner. Sorry for your luck."

Duder sulks off to the corner and I look at my buddy running the scoresheets and just say, "He's DFL."

I just don't get the entitlement attitude of some shooters.


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