Pistols at dawn

It's Friday afternoon and do you know what I'm doing tonight? I am going axe-throwing. Yes that's right, axe-throwing. I'm going with a group of women of middle age like me; and if we're being honest, and I'm always being honest, none of us have any damn business throwing axes or anything else. But I'm given to understand that throwing axes is the new trendy activity for ladies' nights. What could go wrong in a situation that involves a bunch of ladies with slow reflexes and sketchy eyesight throwing heavy objects with sharp blades after a glass of wine or two? Let's be clear: Every single one of us belongs in a book club, not on an axe range.

This is what happens when badassery is the new standard of decorum for women of all ages. I suppose bear wrestling or pistols at dawn in Weehawken will be the next trendy outings, and the success of a ladies night will be measured by body count or at least blood loss rather than glasses of wine consumed. Well at least it's not pumpkin spice. At least it's not pumpkin fucking spice.

*****

Do you know what? Axe-throwing is awesome. AWESOME. That was the most fun I’ve had in months. 

Our group was 17 women and one 14-year-old girl who was born to throw axes. Axe-throwing is harder than it looks and some of us picked it up faster than others. Predictably, I was among the others and my first 10 throws or so ended up on the ground. The instructor, who also owns the farm that houses the axe range, asked me when was the last time I relaxed. I told her truthfully that I had no idea. But I finally figured out how to step into the throw and to let the axe go, spinning toward the target. I hit one six-point bullseye, and lots of three- and four-point shots, and when we played a fast 21-point game, the teenager and I carried our team to near-victory. 

And then just as I was rejoicing in my newly acquired axe-throwing proficiency, I dropped a heavy tabletop on my left foot, which is now swollen and bruised. Fortunately for me, the axe-range required closed-toe shoes and so I was wearing running shoes rather than my customary flip-flops. It could have been much worse. I’m not a badass, but irony is. But I'd totally do that again.