“Fire in the hole!” I looked through a scope on the top of the gun, aimed at my target, lined up my shot, took a deep breath and pulled the trigger.

BANG!

The gun kicked back against my body with a mountain of force and for a moment, I was deadly. I held in my hands the power to kill. And I loved it. This ain’t no laser tag, baby. It's a Remington with a "deerslayer barrel" and it was the first gun I ever shot.

Nothing can prepare you for the shock waves that reverberate through your body the first time you pull the trigger and see that hole in the target — a hole you made.

I’m sure I could never actually hit a living target but I can't say that I didn’t like the feeling of holding all that power between my fingers. And I wasn’t too bad at it, if I do say so myself. I may not have hit right in the bull’s-eye but I got it in frame, which isn’t too bad for a first-timer.

And there I was, dressed in a camouflage hunting jacket, flannel shirt and ratty jeans, deep in the forest of Michigan. I had a weekend of true, blue American fun.

A good friend of mine at school asked me to drive down to Michigan with him to help him with a video project. I agreed, thinking nothing of it and not at all prepared for the intense cultural experience that was in store.

His is a true red-blooded American family, with guns, deer horn trophies and American flags planted proudly on the front lawns. I have finally located the people who buy John Deer merchandise and learned that, in fact, it’s a brand of lawn mower, 600 pounds of mean mowing action.

Michigan is a short drive from Chicago but it feels like it’s a world away. We started our trip in St. Joseph, Michigan, right off Lake Michigan in a chalet cabin, shaped like a perfect triangle, where his mother lives. We ran down to the beach and collected rocks, basking in the calmness and serenity of wide-open spaces and nature.

The next day, we ventured to Wocusta, two hours north-east on the I94 to meet Alex’s family, where I encountered country hospitality like I have never before. We drove up to a big, white, beautiful barn in the middle of nothing at all, where Grandpa sat inside smoking a cigar and Grandma was waiting with baked goods in hand. Trucks were parked in the driveway and there was nothing but forest and rows of corn for as far as the eye could see. We feasted on fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies, pumpkin bread and apple cider. We were fed and coddled, which is in direct contrast to the daily life of a college student, living on coffee and pop tarts. We were spoiled by his mom, grandparents, aunts and uncles.

We rode through the forest on a golf cart with monster-truck wheels, rolling over logs and tree stumps. I hung on for dear life while having a blast, nearly flying off the back multiple times. Why is it that things that are so dangerous are inherently so much fun?

A fragrant bonfire roar brought me back to camping with my grandparents as a small girl. The golden leaves, towering trees and crunch of leaves beneath my feet also made me nostalgic. And although nothing like my childhood, this experience — with the warmth, coziness and hospitality of family — made me miss home.

But I think I may have given my mother a heart attack when I sent her a text that said “MUM, I’M HOLDING A GUN!” — another step towards my Americanization.

I may not have tried any deer meat but I would say I had a true Michigan experience. I felt surprisingly comfortable amongst a wall of mounted bear and deer heads. Now, I have traded back the hunting jacket for my plain black winter coat, and the ratty jeans for my art school dress. But the retreat to the country was a blast and I can't wait to return. I saw a mean-looking bow and arrow that I am longing to try.

Naomi Yorke is a Port Coquitlam teenager who lived in Shanghai, China for four years, writing about her experiences twice a month for The Tri-City News. She now lives in Chicago, where she's attending art school, and continues her column.