I took my .54 flintlock GPR to the NMLRA Spring Shoot at Friendship a few years ago, ready to take on the world. Stepped up on the offhand line, took very careful aim and shot an X at 50 yards with my very first shot. Unfortunately, it wasn't on my target. And like your day, it went downhill from there. Shot the lowest score of the week. Got beat by every junior at the match.
And as for misloading: a brand new GPR barrel needs about 100 rounds through it before it will live up to it's very deserved reputation. I was about a third of the way through that program, shooting 10 to 12 rounds a day every chance I got.
Setting up for the next session I carefully loaded 70 grains of ffg Goex, set my patch material over the bore and set the ball on top. I noticed the patch material was not centered under the ball, so I carefully pinched the edge and gave it a little pull. Whereupon it came completely off the muzzle and the ball dropped into the bore.
Ok, just turn it down and give it a couple taps. Didn't work. Tapped harder. Nothing. Where's my ball puller? At home on the bench. I applied all the bad words my wayward life had taught me to no avail, so, I packed up and went home. The wife made a nice supper, feeling sorry for me, and we relaxed for a bit after. I then went downstairs to correct and clean my rifle.
The ball came right out with a screw jag and I set up to wash the powder out. Then the devil spoke up: why not just shoot it out - no ball, so it won't be too loud, and it would be a whole lot less messy. I stepped outside onto the patio, took aim across the lake and dropped the hammer. KABOOM!!!
The patio, you see is actually under a deck and sided by two large earth berms, a natural resonance cavity. The wife, who had gone to bed since it was now midnight, made noises similar to my attempts to talk the ball out of the bore (see above). Lights came on in previously dark houses all around the lake. And I quickly retired inside and turned OFF our lights.
Which didn't work. Ten minutes later the Sheriff's deputy pulled up in the driveway and asked to speak with me. It seems he had taken the opportunity to commune with nature on a boat ramp directly across the lake. The flash and report disturbed his musings, and he was not happy, having lost a bit of control at a critical point. We discussed his options, none of which were favorable to my point of view, but in the end he did manage to see some humor in the situation. I promised, he accepted, we shook hands and he went off to deal with his problem.
Two weeks later I'm at the Sheriff's office on an unrelated administrative matter and the desk clerk noticed my name and address. She started to laugh and said, "So you're the guy who caused Deputy E_____ a little time off a few weeks ago!"
It seems I'm famous.