Aim, Fire, Cheers
Bucks mission brief
Aim, Fire, Cheers is a day with no gaps in it, one thing rolling straight into the next until closing. It starts on a range with our host calling the group in: twenty warm-up clays each, then a ten-target shoot-off where the noise doubles with every hit. Straight after, a Bavarian beer hall with the crew's seats put by, the first round poured the moment you land and a litre stein set in front of the Buck to open proceedings. Then a reserved sports bar with wall-to-wall screens and a burger you pick from three ways, and a bonus pint that catches the Buck again. It finishes in a cordoned laneway booth, his beer bucket on ice for him. You bring the crew to the first stop, and the momentum takes the wheel from there.
Game Plan
$349.00 per person, based on 8 attendees.
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All of your package customisations will show up right here!Aim, Fire, Cheers is put together for the crew that loses interest the second a day stalls. It never gets the chance: four stops flowing one into the next, from a firing line to a laneway booth, with the Buck carried along in the middle of every turn. There is nothing to work out on the day, because the whole sequence is already set and running: no huddle on the pavement while somebody thumbs through maps, no lad left holding a phone to a venue that quietly stopped answering, no crew cut in half across cabs pointed at two different postcodes. The order was locked in ages ago, and every bit of it belongs to you.
The range sets the tempo for the whole thing. Our seasoned host takes charge from the off, coaxing the tentative and goading the overconfident, and within minutes the sledging is running faster than the shooting. Everyone gets twenty clays to settle, then the ten-target contest opens and the volume climbs with it, a cheer for anything that shatters and an entire panel of critics for anything that sails through clean. It sorts itself into one obvious winner and a field of blokes with excuses ready-made, and the argument about who was robbed keeps rolling all the way into town.
Barely a breath later, the crew pours into a Bavarian beer hall where the seats have been set aside and the first round is already inbound. Bretzels arrive warm and get torn apart across the table, and then the Buck is presented with a full litre stein, a vessel with no real respect for the human wrist. He will lift it, he will wobble, he will grin like a man handed the keys to something he cannot drive, and the toast he makes off the back of it kicks the drinking half of the day into a higher gear.
From here, the night keeps its foot down, next into a sports bar with the crew's table already reserved, screens across every wall and a pool table free for a quick contest between courses. The burger lands stacked and comes three ways, so it is decision time before you have sat down properly: the big beef one, the crumbed southern-fried chicken one, or the plant-based one that keeps the whole table in the game. Chips pile up alongside, another round is already down, and a bonus pint slides in front of the Buck before he has thought to order one.
As the night reaches its peak, the crew drops into a cordoned booth folded into the laneways, and for the first time all day the pace is allowed to ease off. It is theirs for two full hours with nobody else routed through it, the Buck's beer bucket already waiting on ice, and the boys keeping a steady supply of rounds heading his way. He settles into the middle of it all like he has been running the night the whole time, and the last cheers of the evening goes up from a bloke who has long since stopped counting.
And you were in every second of it, from the firing line to the final round, not the bloke off to the side keeping the whole thing moving by force of will. Sometime late on, one of the crew will marvel at how a day this busy never once dragged, and you can simply agree that it was a good day and leave the mechanics out of it. The night ran like clockwork because you were the one who wound it up.
Only one Aim, Fire, Cheers runs on a given date, and the Saturdays disappear quickest of the lot. Get your date pinned down now, because the night you've already started picturing is the exact one another best man is about to book out from under you.