Once upon a time… in the dim mists of antiquity (as Tom Kratman likes to say) I had a concealed carry permit. It was a wondrous thing which allowed me to carry my Ruger in the console of my truck and the Glock on my person. Glorious it was. And I enjoyed said permit for a time whilst living somewhat north of my current location here in Eastern Krasnovia. Well, one PCS move followed another, and ultimately I ended up here–and with an expired permit to boot. Not that it would have mattered, reciprocity being what it is I would have been boned anyway in my current locale.
Time went on and getting a new permit simply did not make it to the top of my priorities of work. Plus I had that little deployment to Pashtun-Playland where I got to carry lots of loaded guns all the time without any permit at all… joy unbounded! After my little stint in Central Asia where things were somewhat interesting, I came back here and felt a bit safer. So again, the permit didn’t rise above many other things on the “Honey Do” list.
Well, the boys at work (those that hunt and enjoy firearms) have decided to descend upon a local CCW class in force and I was asked to participate in this coordinated effort. I readily agreed, since A) I probably need to get this done and B) it’ll be much more fun attending the class with the boys from work, as opposed the usual crowd of middle-aged gun nerds who spend their free time hanging out at the local gun store discussing the latest tactical kit to best defend their double-wides against platoons of marauding felons and Soviet paratroopers. My Mall Ninja-Wannabe tolerance only goes so high… which is why I don’t go to gun stores anymore, but I digress.
So anyway, it’ll be nice to get a permit again. I probably won’t carry a weapon around any more often than I already do, but if I need to go somewhere strange I can take along my piece. Which will be a bit reassuring and nice.
I’ll be sure to let you all know how the class goes.