I'm used to shooting a Nikon,

not a Glock.

But last week I traded in my

35mm camera's click-whirr for the raw power POP-POP-POP of a .40-cal pistol,

the weapon of choice for deputies with the Fayette County Sheriff's Department.

Harmlessly enough, it started

when I went to the shooting range to do a story on deputies taking their

annual weapons proficiency exam, otherwise known as qualifying.

I had no idea they'd be crazy

enough to let me have a crack at it.

As a kind of firearm-phobe,

I wasn't as worried about hitting the targets as I was making sure I didn't

shoot myself in the foot. The last time I handled a pistol was back in

fifth grade during a 4-H firearms safety class. That was over 15 years

ago, but at least I remembered to keep the weapon pointed down at all

times just to be safe.

Putting a gun in my hands was

all the idea of Lt. David Moorman, one of the department's firearms instructors,

and he gave me a little coaching before turning me loose. They outfitted

me with the easiest holster to use, and I first practiced drawing the

weapon to the shooting position.

On the first round, I'm expected

to pump two rounds in the target in just three seconds. Getting the draw

down pat would be crucial.

Moorman noticed that my elbow

flies up pretty high as I yank the gun out, and he showed me how to speed

up the process. Sure enough it works and after a few more tries I'm blasting

away.

From three yards I did all

right. Didn't shoot myself, didn't hurt nobody and the gun's back in its

holster. I don't think I missed the target either, but I was too worried

about safety to pay much attention to that.

Off to 7 yards. I'm starting

to get used to this. The gun's a lot lighter than I imagined and after

a little coaching I can draw the weapon sort-of-quickly with a little

ease.

"You just shot the momma

and her baby," Moorman deadpanned, referring to my shots that missed

the target. My first instinct is to laugh, because he delivered it like

a classic punch line. Then again, I also understand the gravity of the

situation were this a real-life scenario and I had to take deadly force.

Then I get in a few more shots

from 7 yards.

"You know that guy walking

out of the Kwickie mart with the bag of Cheetos? You just dusted him,"

Moorman says.

Then it was off to 15 yards,

where I was surprised I hit the targets at all. Charged with shooting

two targets three times, pausing, and then repeating the shots, I got

a little nervous and pumped four rounds into the first target before hitting

the other target.

"Remember we don't shoot

to kill, we shoot to stop the threat," Moorman tells me. The general

rule of thumb is to shoot twice, evaluate whether or not the threat is

halted, and if not then shoot twice again, and check again.

All in all, Lt. Moorman made

me into a pretty decent shooter. Considering my lack of experience, you've

got to attribute my success to his instruction. (They did say I was a

good listener).

Of 36 rounds fired, I hit the

target 27 times. I didn't shoot from the 25-yard mark like the real deputies

did. I'd had enough of an experience to write about.

Shooting paper targets of bad

guys (and bad gals) doesn't compare to shooting pictures. Put a .40-cal.

Glock handgun on my belt, and I'm a totally different person.

After it was over, I wanted

to go buy my own Glock so I could become more proficient. It wasn't as

hard as I thought it would be. That would be fun, but it's an expensive

hobby and I can't imagine having a gun around the house no matter how

secure it would be.

I left the shooting range with

a greater respect for the men and women who might have to draw their weapons

and be prepared to use deadly force to protect others.

Shooting a firearm is definitely

a skill and to a certain degree, an art.

But I'll stick to my harmless

little Nikon camera for now. I'd rather worry about whether the shot was

in focus than worry if I made the right decision to take out a dangerous

suspect.

You can re-take a photo, but

you can't re-take a deadly shooting.