Fun and games at the shooting range

What a coincidence. Thanks to social media, I found out that a friend is currently in Los Angeles. Not just any friend, my police friend, f.k.a. horse girl friend. It's not just a vacation, no, she is here for work and has a TV crew in tow. Wow, my past is catching up with me to show me a bit of the show business. Let's go.

The next day I drive out of the city for about an hour. I'm really glad I don't have to get stuck in traffic on the opposite side of the freeway. After a coffee break, I arrive at the destination. A sign informs me that I am now entering 'jail property'. But my destination is not the prison, but a training area next to it, more precisely the shooting range.

I'm a bit early, so I park the car and look around. Two men in uniform are watching me. Slightly intimidated by the surroundings and the uniforms, I go up to them and ask if I'm even allowed to park there. Everything's fine, everyone's nice.

I look around some more: a memorial stone with a poem about a police officer who died in service adds to mixed feelings. I decide to put aside any reservations, prejudices, and differences of opinion about (American) police officers or gun laws, and any other fears of contact as much as possible for today. There is also this other important image: the police, your friend and helper. In elementary school, I even had a sticker of that.

After a few minutes, I find out the exact meeting point and set off - on foot, like a European. The thought briefly crosses my mind whether pedestrians are even allowed on the prison grounds. Maybe I should have read the sign at the entrance more carefully. After a few meters, I am honked at by a police car. A picture-perfect police officer looks at me through the window - cap, sunglasses, mustache - everything there. But there is no arrest for unauthorized wandering - my friend waves from the passenger seat.

American police cars are well equipped for those sitting in the front, reasonably comfortable, and above all safe. Those sitting in the back, however, have it incredibly uncomfortable. Surely not a coincidence. There is also something pragmatic about it: the hard plastic seats and the completely shielded driver's cabin make it easy to clean the passenger area. Surely not to my disadvantage. In the front room, there is also a shotgun. Later I also see long firearms clamped under a trunk lid. I am amazed. But even though I have never seen as many weapons as today in my whole life, I feel largely safe.

After a short introduction, we start: the policemen start with an instruction on safety rules, the cameraman starts filming. Everyone except me is given a bulletproof vest. It feels a bit strange. The golden rule is 'whatever happens just stay behind us.' I nod as the head of the S.W.A.T. team looks at me; I suppress the urge to salute at the last moment.

The S.W.A.T. team warms up with pistols from the Austrian company Glock. The world is a village in a way. The target sheets have been prepared with photos and are now shot at while standing, kneeling, half turned, and from various other formations. I am amazed by the choreography and the bullets that simply go through the target sheets and land in the desert sand.

Afterwards, a metal tree is set up with swinging target sheets attached to it. Two shooters now compete against each other and try to swing all the target sheets to the opponent's side. Although live ammunition is being shot here and training for emergencies is being practiced, it all feels very much like fun and games.

Later, the long firearms are unpacked as well. S.W.A.T. stands for 'Special Weapons And Tactics', this special unit is called in when things get really precarious and, for example, gunfights are expected. The equipment is somewhere between regular police equipment and military equipment. Meanwhile, sheriffs have arrived who are practicing shooting exercises on the range next to us. Based solely on the sound, everything from the Wild West to war is possible.

The S.W.A.T. teams also try out scenarios and actions that may be adopted into regular police work later on. A scenario like this is also being rehearsed now: a dilapidated car is suddenly involved in a fictional gunfight. My friend is tasked with shooting out the windshield. From the inside. It takes some effort and persuasion, but she also handles this exercise brilliantly. Later, the S.W.A.T. guys take over, so soon there are no more windows left.

After the strategic work is done, the daily quota has been fulfilled, so now it can be fun: the AK 47s are equipped with ammunition drums. Suddenly, the tough S.W.A.T. cops become big boys who get to try out a great toy, so much joy, funny remarks, and excitement. But when they start, it sounds very much like war. Although the heart rate is a bit higher due to the noise and a strange feeling in the stomach, the impression remains that it's not as serious as it sounds. And somehow you want to grant these young guys, who do a dangerous job on a daily basis, a bit of fun as well.

Today I discovered a new side of America that would have remained hidden from me without the visit from home - and for that, I am grateful. On the way home, I get a cheeseburger from In-N-Out - welcome to America, again.