Adventure Time: Gowanus


So, long, long ago, when Brazilian Helicopter Pilot* and I first started going steady, he took me to a Brooklyn archery range for a date. Since he already taken the class to qualify to shoot on his own, he had a lane next to the class that I had to take to get range privileges. It was a fairly uneventful class up until the last part where we had a friendly competition between the n00bs. I was facing off against another person and managed to hit a balloon before them. Brazilian Helicopter pilot whooped so loudly you would think that I had scored the winning goal for the Brazilian Team at the World Cup. No one had realized he was watching so everyone turned to look at him and he immediately turned away and tried to play it cool.

Now two-ish years later, it is time for me to be measured for my own bow so I no longer have to rent equipment from the range. Having lived through Brazilian Helicopter Pilot’s bow fitting I was fairly certain I was prepared for the trial that it was going to be.

We arrived early and I was my usual self, cracking jokes while we waited for Bob* to show up and fit me for my bow. Bob was pretty much nowhere to be found until it was exactly 6 PM. While I was unimpressed that he wasn’t early, I was not disappointed at him being exactly on time. He was friendly and thankfully not the same person who fitted Brazilian Helicopter Pilot for his bow. We talked what kind of bow I wanted (re-curve), whether or not I would be shooting competitively (hell to the fucking no), and whether or not I would want a sight on my bow (of fucking course – I need to be able to hit moving targets). We discussed the draw weight and he disappeared and came back with a little beauty of a bow – black limbs and a wood riser with a thread of red through the wood.

He put her together for me, since I have never assembled a REAL bow before (there was the tiny plastic yellow one I had as a child that I left strung and in the attic for it to warp and become unusable, but that has no bearing on this adventure). We then talked arrows, I went with the mid-high level arrows and he went off to fletch them (black and red fletching). I then waited for I think an hour until they were done, paid, and left with everything I needed (Bow, arrows, quiver, shooting glove, sight, arm brace, and string) except for a bag.

Now I can see all of you yawning out there and saying “Cool story, Brah” and I am not denying that this is not my most exciting adventure, but sometimes life is ordinary and that is just fine. The final note on this story is that I am a little bit unsure if the reason why my fitting went so fast was because we had Bob (who was WAAAAY better than the guy who handled Brazilian Helicopter Pilot) or because I am a woman and he decided to just make a lot of decisions for me or because I am sort-of an average height there was not a lot of customization that needed to be done with my bow, contrary to Brazilian Helicopter Pilot who is extremely tall and needed special bits. I prefer to think that it is a combination of 1 and 2, but seeing as I have noticed differences in encounters based on gender, I will still have a smidge of niggling doubt in the back of my mind.


*All names have been altered to protect identities

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