The Case Against Conceal & Carry
DH & I spent Saturday together. It was a bit dreary, a dark and gray day. We started the day pleasantly enough, with pancakes at IHOP, and then attended Active Shooter training compliments of the local police department. Now, those of you who know me know that I enjoy shooting. I grew up around guns, and have a little Walther P22. Great gun for plinking cans in the back yard and, if push came to shove, I could at least wound an intruder or make him reconsider his choice to continue or back off. The Active Shooter training was good, and offered some great tips for those of us who do not carry concealed. I don’t carry – have taken the class, but haven’t gone to get my license yet. My husband and I continued our day with a tour of antique stores and flea markets, finding all sorts of little treasures (a Munchkin Zombie Sherpa! WOOT!) and finally stopped at Dairy Queen in a little town to grab a bite to eat. And that’s when the day turned for me. I was already getting grouchy because I was tired and hungry. As we sat waiting, a group of six local boys was loudly discussing their various exploits. (what do you call a group of idiots? A gaggle? A crowd? A herd? How ’bout a noose?) One was talking about working for the fire department. So these weren’t just teenage punks. These were older teens or early twenties. One described popping over a hill and finding a bunch of turkeys in the road, so he floored it and – BOOM – feathers flew everywhere! He used the f-word about every third word. All laughed hysterically, then began describing other birds they’d hit. A rooster, among others.
At that point, I turned to my husband and said, “And that is why I do not carry concealed.”
Can you imagine? I could be with a group of friends and proclaim, “I went into this DQ and there was a bunch of rednecks sitting right there, so I went at them and – BOOM – hats and chew and belt buckles everywhere!”
(NOTE: I have nothing against rednecks. And there really should be a different word for backwoods country idiots like these guys. And to top it off, these guys thought they were really impressing the girls working there. They didn’t. As soon as they walked out the door, the girls were laughing at them. And I do hope that Karma is real.)