Colorado, from a New Yorker's point of view

What’s with the guns?  I’m used to NY & NJ which have some of the strictest gun control laws in the nation.  Out here guns are much more prevalent.  I was out with a girl last night who can disassemble and reassemble an M16.  You don’t really meet women like that back in NY.

Growing up in NY my gun stories are rather limited.  I probably only have 3-4 gun stories.  I should really re-word that and say I have two gun stories and two gun sentences.  The sentences are pretty simple:  1) While underage I shot a round or two at the range.  2) I’ve shot a 22 at some cans in the woods.

At the time some of my gun stories occurred I didn’t even know they were about guns.  I remember being in college and driving around in a friend’s mom’s mini-van.  Wanting to be more clever than destructive we would steel lawn ornaments from one house and then set them up on lawn next door.  Occasionally we would swap lawn ornaments from house to house.  Then at the end of the night whatever was left over would end up on someone’s front lawn.  We figured it would be an awkward conversation for the homeowner.  “No I didn’t take your garden troll Harry….well yes it is on my lawn, but I don’t know how it got there.”  As a side note occasionally during the redecoration process a garbage can or two (and possibly a Porta-Potty or two) might have accidentally been knocked over or run over.  Mostly those stemmed from miss-communication issues.   For example, one of us would say “don’t hit the garbage can” but with the radio blasting it would get interpreted as “hit the garbage can.”

The morning after one particularly raucous evening my friend and I were getting back into said mini van, when his mother runs out of the house.  She stops us just as we were backing out of the driveway.  She opens the driver’s door and reaches behind the seat.  “Oh look what you boys were driving around with last night.  I forgot to get my stuff.” she said with a big chuckle as she pulls out her gun and an open bottle of Sambuca.    Thankfully we didn’t get pulled over.  “No really, officer I don’t where that came from.”  In case the Sambuca didn’t give it away my friend is of Italian descent.

My last gun story also dates back to college.  A friend was having some friends from home visit.  Home for them was a neighborhood suffering from ghettofication.  I’ll touch back on this point as the story continues.  We were pre-gaming before heading out to the bars, when one of the visitors commented that he needed to get something out of his car before we drove around in it all night.  He looks at me and asks if I could go to the back window, he had something to bring into the dorm and he didn’t want to go through the main entrance.  Moments later he appears at the back window carrying something under a flannel jacket.  As he hands it to me through the window I realize it feels like a rifle or some big type of gun.  Turns out it was a sawed off shot-gun.  I give the kid credit for recognizing that it would be a bad idea to go out drinking in a car that has a sawed off shot gun in the back hatch.  I was told the gun was for protection, because his neighborhood wasn’t as safe as it was years ago.  Being either Italian, wise or a good New Yorker I didn’t ask any questions that I didn’t want to know the answers to.  I put the gun in my friend’s closet and thought to myself, “not my gun , not my closet, not my problem, let’s go drinking.”  And yes, as a precautionary  measure I did wipe my prints off the gun.  Which in and of itself makes the story great.  I mean, how many other people can say they’ve wiped their fingerprints off a sawed off shotgun?

Those are my gun stories.  Actually I do have another gun story, this involves a former co-worker, one who’s neck was a little more cerise than mine.   We had made plans to go to happy hour after work one particular Friday.  We left work and while driving to happy hour my friend called me.  He proceeded to inform me that the next day was the start of small game hunting season and that he need to pick up his gun from the gun smith.  Thank god it wasn’t a date or I really would have felt crappy about myself.  I mean stood up for a gun?  Really? To each their own.

Flash forward to Colorado a state that still recognizes the 2nd amendment.  My landlord claims to be an excellent shot, with a shotgun and a very good shot with a pistol.  Just by making those claims I have to assume that she has fired more weapons than I have.  I do not know any other women on the east coast who brag about their abilities with a shotgun.

A friend of mine recently commented that the last two guys she’s met on-line both want to take her to the gun range.  At first I imagine some right wing southern extremist gun nut.  It’s scary enough for women to meet strangers they’ve met on-line.  But knowing the person is armed.  Initially that sounds really creepy.

However the more I think about it the more I realize it is a brilliant idea on so many levels.  You get to find out how adventurous the girl is.  You get to find out her political stance on the 2nd amendment.  It is slightly dangerous, you get a sense of power when you discharge a firearm.  You have an excuse to get close to her, after all you have to help her with learning proper form.  All of these are very positive things.  The other benefit is that in the event that she is an excellent, practiced marksmen you know never to piss her off.  And if she tells you her father taught her how to shoot you know to never break her heart.