The Indoor Gun Range

The memory of my first LSD trip at my old high school in Maryland stirred up some memories I had forgotten.

Charlotte Hall Military Academy had been a fixture in St. Mary's County, Maryland for  194 years when I first attended. The student body was comprised of some legacy cadets, a few local boys, some troubled kids, some kids who caused trouble, and kids parents just wanted to park somewhere out of the way. I know I felt parked that first year, but I guess I fell into the "Kids who caused trouble category". I had been booted out of the Montgomery County public system after 9th grade.

Strict military regimen was the heart and soul of the school. Life on campus followed a strict schedule. We marched, wore military uniforms, shot M-1 rifles and often marched with those rifles on a penalty track to work off demerits we had accumulated while doing what teen aged boys do, fucking off or fucking up. My first year went by uneventfully except for some minor hazing all new K-dets received their first year. I learned quickly to keep my head down. I finished that sophomore year actually looking forward to going back. I wonder now if the attraction of rules that were not fluid, not up to interpretation. The rules and punishments were clearly delineated. I knew where I stood.

The local State Police troop did not have their own indoor gun range to use. From time to time, they borrowed the one on campus located in the basement of the pool building. They would show up in cruisers and personal rides and spend an evening firing side arms. 

I don't know who thought up the prank we played on them. I seem to remember Snake as the one who came up with the idea. But there were at least 3 of us who participated. 

I was a junior at the time. Juniors were not allowed to smoke tobacco on campus. Getting caught smoking or possessing tobacco could mean 25 demerits; more, if we were repeat offenders. Hiding butts in packs was tough to do when inspections happened at the drop of a hat. So I began to roll my own cigarettes. I could hide the tobacco and papers easier than a carton of butts. 

I also had some flavored papers for the occasional joints we might smoke. If memory serves, the ones I had were strawberry flavored, so they were red. I rolled up a few skinny tobacco filled joints. We smoked them down to roach length. Then while the State cops were busy having fun shooting up the basement of the pool building, we put the tobacco roaches under some of the windshields of their cruisers.

None of us hung around to see the reaction, but the next day there was an investigation. I understand that some seniors were questioned because the range was very close to the Senior Smoker in that section of the campus. There were 2 Senior Smoking areas, one behind the New Barracks and one next to the Old Barracks and maybe 50 to 75 feet from the gun range.

I can't verify, but the rumor was, the cops had the roaches tested. Of course they tested for tobacco. The investigation closed almost as soon as it started. I hope the cops got a chuckle out of it. I know I sure did.

Later ..........................................

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Once again, thinking of a song to go with a post is finding only a blank space where inspiration usually resides.

I used to sing this song so badly off key at age 7 or 8, my parents banned me from ever singing it within their earshot. They definitely regretted allowing me to buy the 45. But damn, I was a burgeoning cowpoke. I had a six gun, a cowboy hat, and several cowboy shirts like Roy Rodgers wore. This song oozed the West I learned to love from movies and TV.

The picture is me playing stud poker with Black Bart (Pam, my baby sitter and it was probably "Go Fish").

Here is Marty Robbins and his chart topping, "El Paso".