My dad asked me to take him to a gun show. He wasn’t sure how to get to the place so I agreed to drive him. I wanted to fit in, so I went to Bass Pro Shop the week before to see if I could learn something about people who shop for guns.
It looked like I was going to have to buy a whole new wardrobe. I figured a cap would be good enough. A Bass Pro cap fifteen dollars, what? I asked a clerk if they had a Bass Pro patch. They were sold out. On the way home I realized I had an orange shirt. I wondered if it was close enough to hunter’s orange for me to wear it. I got home and pulled it out and wondered if pastel orange was close enough. I thought not.
I decided to try and find a ball cap around the house. I looked all over before I found one. There was a problem though, it had a picture of Elmo on it. What did I do with my with SKOAL, NASCAR, and NRA caps ,anyway? Ok, so scrap the cap. Not being able to dress the part I figured the best I could do was to not shave for five days and get a temporary tattoo. That way I would fit in with both the men and women there.
We walked in the door, my dad started drooling. I started panicking. Have you seen some of the people at gun shows? What’s worse, they were all carrying guns? There were guns all over the place. There were thousands of them. There were more guns than in an old Clint Eastwood western. There were big guns and small guns. There were pistols and rifles. There was even a gun that shot something like a million rounds a minute. It cost ten thousand dollars. You could clean up the neighborhood vermin in eight seconds with that thing. There was some guy in military fatigues looking at it. I think he was from South America. I tried to look at guns but I don’t know a .357 from a 96.8. My dad stopped at the first table. I told him I’d call him if we get separated. That took about twelve seconds. He picked up a gun to look at it and I was waiting at the exit. It didn’t take me long to look.
I was surprised to see they sell all kinds of stuff at a gun show. They even had a booth with jewelry. I can imagine some guy going home and saying, “Look honey I got eight guns, three knives and a WWII helmet. Oh and I got you these earrings made from shrapnel from a grenade that killed three cows in a field in Germany in WWI.”
There was even an old Indian there. I wanted an authentic arrow or an arrowhead. He was selling jewelry and gemstones. He wasn’t wearing feathers, he was wearing a Jim Beam hat. I wonder where he got that at?
I was standing next to a father and his very young son. I overheard his son ask, “Can I get something else, I already have a lot of knives.” I hope that kids doesn’t go to the same school as my kids. I wonder how many guns he has? I walked by an entire family, mom dad and five kids. They were all carrying weapons. Saturday night at the Ferguson’s must be a grand old time.
I saw a booth were they were selling bumper stickers. Most of the ones I read I just shook my head at. There was one bumper sticker that caught my eye, “Die Barney Die” I liked that one. I bought several of those to share with friends.
There were a couple of things I didn’t see. I didn’t see any women in heels or beer nuts. What the heck is with that? All these hunters and gun lovers and not one beer nut in the place. Actually, I don’t even like beer nuts. I just felt embarrassed writing about cotton candy and funnel cake. That’s the last gun show I’m going to. The main reason I’ll never go again? The blow gun I bought, didn’t work.