Late, late for a very important date

Please forgive me — I wanted to have this column done in time for last month’s issue, but I was running behind.

In this regard, has anyone else noticed a trip to the range, hunting, fishing or outdoors adventure in general almost always involves walking in the door at home many hours after the promised return time?

Facts Are Facts

It seems a curious fact but is an iron-clad truth nonetheless. No matter how many pounds of intention you apply to the matter, you will inadvertently return long after the appointed hour even if you have a wedding or funeral to attend. In my case, there is no doubt someday I’ll come rushing into the chapel, reeking of gun solvent and arms full of shooting bags and empty brass, before dropping everything at the feet of the Minister and climbing into the casket with apologies to all.

Realization of this problem came as I was once again dashing home this week, feeling guilty and driving at an excessive speed in a vain effort to locate a spot where I had a decent cellular phone signal to offer yet another long-distance excuse to my wife. For the umpteenth time, I had made iron-clad promises to return at a certain time yet slid into the driveway over an hour late to a dinner of hot tongue and cold shoulder.

The problem not only affects Your Faithful Correspondent but also afflicts those of my small social circle. It remains a matter of conjecture if this is actually our fault or some other malevolent natural force of the outdoors universe. My wife has a wild theory on the matter, but I won’t share the semi-coherent ramblings of someone who builds a 36-hour time cushion around all social engagements.

This problem is a universal relationship complaint because many times I have called a friend’s home in the evening, only to hear something along the lines of “Oh, he went to the gun shop this afternoon and was supposed to be home two hours ago. I’ve been in labor for over 12 hours, so I would expect him any minute.” In this particular case, my friend made it back in time for the christening so I really don’t understand why his wife was so upset.

Full Circle

It’s interesting to know this phenomenon doesn’t just apply to actual shooting and outdoor ventures, but simply the act of discussing them. In the last few years as Lord High Protector of this esteemed magazine, I’ve been forced to confront a major failure from my past in this area.

Prior to GUNS, I was a freelance writer of almost four decades, meaning I was entirely on my own to meet deadlines. In this regard I failed early and often, as our esteemed AmericanCop.com editor Denny Hansen will wholly attest. Denny was my editor at the now-defunct SWAT Magazine and used to be carefree and joyous before offering me a monthly column. I know Denny was shocked if I came within weeks of a deadline and he once fainted dead away when my column arrived only a day late.

Denny wasn’t the only one however. I used to be the proprietor of a small outdoor website and one time I was sitting at the computer when I was suddenly overcome with blurred vision, shortness of breath and trembling of my lower lip. At that moment, I realized I had actually finished a story ahead of my own self-imposed deadline and it felt wildly foreign, as if I had somehow shredded the time/space continuum.

Fortunately, I had to test a gun at the range the next day so my ensuing article was late and everything returned to normal.

Reason #1

The most common root cause of all this sporting lateness is the “one more” syndrome. This hindrance is a manifestation of the fact most of the world keeps going on forever, without any clear-cut demarcations such as the foul lines in baseball. Men, especially, need boundaries.

The return time of any shooting or outdoor trip is usually decided upon prior to the jaunt and earnestly shared with those whom it will affect. However, at the end of the day, we are sorely tempted because we need just one more string to fire to tighten up the group, there’s one more prime thicket to hunt or we see the perfect sunken log we know is holding a monster trout.

These last-ditch attempts often stretch into minutes, sometimes hours and occasionally weeks as we endeavor to end our adventure on a positive note. In fact, I’ve used this well-known natural fact as a no-fail hunting and fishing technique. Whenever you’re getting skunked, grandly announce to the world, “I’d like to keep fishing (or hunting, shooting, etc.) but the Swedish Bikini Team is waiting on me at the hotel and I simply must leave!”

Just make sure you’re ready because the sky will soon be filled with birds, the prairies will be black with antelope and fish will fight to commit piscatorial suicide on your lure.

I’ve also noted a parallel phenomenon on the shooting range — if you’re at the range and running ahead of schedule, you’ll run out of bullets in plenty of time to pack up, mess around a bit and head home. But, if you’re operating under a hard deadline because you’re scheduled to perform brain surgery or launch a major invasion of Europe, there will still be a half-box of ammo sitting temptingly on the tailgate when it’s time to leave. You’ll keep plugging away, continually muttering “Just one more, I gotta leave right after this one …”

In fact, most people don’t realize D-Day, June 6, 1944, was actually supposed to take place on May 23rd but Dwight D. Eisenhower was busy working up a new load for his pet ’98 Mauser.

Have Mercy

If you are a spouse who has accidentally stumbled on this column, please try to be understanding toward we poor souls — we didn’t intend to ruin your niece’s wedding or miss the ballet, but once we start rambling with gun or rod, time ceases to exist and before long the clock has become our mortal enemy.

As a gesture of our sincerity in the matter, I’ll have everyone raise their right hand to take a collective oath swearing our allegiance to deadlines and promising to be home on time, every time — regardless of how many rounds remain in the magazine, how promising the next brushy draw appears or in spite of how fast the fish have suddenly started biting. We promise to be more conscious of the time and quit making excuses about …

Oops, I’d like to continue with the pledge but just realized I’m late in meeting the boys down at the gun shop.

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