I like spectators, then again, I live in the south, we talk to strangers down here. I have never been so absorbed in my shooting as to not have time to explain to the onlookers what my historic looking gun is, how to load it and how the flint makes it go off. If they are really interested, I let them take a shot or two, this always makes for big smiles. I like to help people, when I see someone having a problem getting their grampa's old TC to go off or see them dry ball, I step up to the plate and give them a hand, I always have a range box full of stuff that might be needed.
I have run into a number of black rifle guys who are completely devoid of any kind of personality, very caustic folk who are always expecting the Russians to be coming over the berm and attack at any moment. They won't talk to or even look at anyone else at the range, they are too absorbed in themselves, their tricked-out equipment and neatly arranged boxes of handloads.
I have had only one disappointing experience at the range lately, it is 50 miles away so I don't go often, I can shoot out to 50 yards at my house.
The last time I went to the public range a beat-up car drove up, three guys and a young woman got out. They were armed to the teeth with all manner of black rifles and pistols. As soon as they set up some targets and empty 2 liter bottles down range they started doing bump stock mag dumps as fast as they could, I bet they ran through 1000 rounds.
I was shooting my Beck .54 beside them, I didn't mind the mag dumps, we were all there to shoot.
They took a break to look at my flintlock, I explained how it worked and how to load it. The gal took a real interest in my rifle so I offered to let her take a shot. She actually shot the rifle very well for a beginner.
After the gal shot, I started loading my mountain of guns, accessories and target stand into my truck, it took multiple trips. The black rifle crowd left while I was loading stuff. I had just bought a very nice pair of shooting glasses and had them in a case on the shooting bench while I was loading my stuff. When I put the last of my gear in the truck, I realized I didn't have my shooting glasses, an exhaustive search didn't turn them up. It was then that I realized that someone in the black rifle crowd had stolen my shooting glasses off the bench when I was loading my truck, very disappointing considering how nice I was to them.
One bad apple won't make me change the way I interact with people at the range, I enjoy the interaction too much.
