I took this photo as I pulled into my driveway on Sunday morning after having spent six hours driving home from NYC.

That’s normally a four hour drive, but I pulled out of a Maryland rest stop going North instead of South and didn’t notice for over half an hour.

I would blame my embarrassing mistake on exhaustion and nighttime if that was the first time it had happened.

Sadly, this past weekend marked the second time I’ve been outwitted by Maryland interstate restrooms.

I’m telling you this as a explanation for why I freaked out on Sunday.

Though you all know me well enough to know I need no excuse to be crazy.

Growing up in the suburbs, I’d never seen a gun before.

So I was quite excited for the shooting experience.

You know, so I’d have something to talk about at parties.

(Like smoking or riding motorcycles, shooting is cool. Television taught me that.)

We arrived and signed pages of forms.

Looking back, those forms probably contained important safety information, but I didn’t bother to read them.

I did spend time getting to know Bob, my zombie.

And then I flipped out.

I’m still not sure why exactly – I didn’t think anything bad was going to happen.

But having my only past experience with guns being forced to memorize the correct response to “if you see a gun, what do you do?” I might have started panicking at the idea of being immersed in a building filled with them.
Unable to stop talking, I babbled about zombies and hunting and asked Jeff that he tell them I was brave at the end.

“I call ‘em like I see ‘em” he responded.

A man and his son were waiting for their number while sitting across from us, and from their expressions, they hadn’t found the shooting range frightening until I showed up.

Their number was called first, while I was in the middle of a spiel worrying that I’d really like shooting and become unhealthily addicted.

The father had ignored me so far, but turned while walking away, looking over his shoulder at me and said “I don’t think you have to worry about that.”

I didn’t kill myself. Or anybody else.

But that’s another post.

Sometimes I hesitate before putting ugly photos online

Then I go “eh,”