I went to a shooting range for the first time on VALENTINE’S DAY.

This was not a spur-of-the-moment decision. It’s calculated. Planned, even.

I knew Valentine’s Day was the worst day to go out and eat out. Overcrowded restaurants, hellish traffic.
So instead of forcing romance, I had an excuse to finally try something from my bucket list that had been looming over my mind for a while.

It was nerve-wracking, but at the same time exhilarating. It’s also pretty expensive.

We went for a 30-round pistol package for the price of P1,360. Mind you, this is per head.

A trainer would assist all the way through the experience. Honestly, I didn’t really know what to expect, given that I had not fired a gun before. I held one back in high school during our National Service Training Program (NSTP), but that didn’t really count because I never fired it.

As I sat there waiting for our turn, I could feel my heart thumping like it was going to give out. A gun is a powerful weapon, and such power comes with great consequences. I kept overthinking the worst.

I was so caught up with my own thoughts that I didn’t notice a woman sitting besides me.

“Hey, are you nervous? Is this your first time?”

I nodded with a sheepish smile.

“You’re going to be fine. It’s scary at first, but once you start firing your first bullet, you’re going to enjoy it and crave it.”

She was not completely wrong.

We were talking for a couple of minutes when the trainer signalled for us to come in, walking with a gun case in hand. We were ushered to a small room full of earmuffs and eye protectors to use. I underestimated how loud a gun is. It is a terrifying sound.

Inside the range, the gunfires were overwhelmingly loud. The air smelled thick with gunpowder. It was suffocating. I had to step out and request a mask.

Then it was my turn.

The instructor walked me through how to properly hold a gun, the grip, the stance, and the aim. He reloads the gun for me each time, which I’m so grateful for because one of the worst scenarios in my head is cocking the gun wrong and hurting myself in the process.

My first shot?

A bull’s-eye! A big hole in the chest area.

I wish I could say I was skilled at it like John Wick. But the next few shots were hitting the marks I wasn’t even aiming for. I was a bad shot. The first shot was just lucky – beginner’s luck.

The gun is heavy and strong. I didn’t expect the recoil to push my wrist upward. It’s making me miss more shots than I anticipated.

The excitement fades, and replacing it is my frustration. The perfectionist in me is coming out of its deep-seated slumber.

I’m already on my 30th shot, and I can account for only 23 holes on my board. Where were the rest?

Thirty bullets were not enough. I wanted more; I wanted to be better, but I’ve already spent my bullets.

Grateful for Armscor Davao for the experience.

It gave me a deeper respect for people who handle firearms professionally, especially those in active service. Constant exposure to that type of fear and overwhelming noise can stay with you. It completely rewires the brain.

Above all, it highlighted something else: the level of discipline required to hold such a powerful weapon with restraint.

While I see it as an experience I truly enjoyed, I still believe that there are better ways to settle things without resorting to violence.

Funny how ironic it is to realize that on such a clichéd romantic holiday like Valentine’s Day.

Disclaimer: This post is not promoting gun violence. The activity was done in a controlled environment under the supervision of trained professionals. Responsible gun handling and safety should always be the top priority.