I love this place where I live.
Yesterday my neighbor D and I took my cat Click to the vet, in this little town about 35 miles away. (there’s a vet in the very little town nearest where I live, but you don’t want to do that.)
In this little town, there’s a store. It’s a special, magical store. We call it the ATF store, because they genuinely sell alcohol, tobacco, and firearms. It’s also a drug store and we can’t wait till weed is legalized in this state because that would be awesome. But I digress.
Anyway, D wanted to stop at this store. I bought some obscenely overpriced ammo for my .44 because it was there, and then went outside to smoke a cigarette and wait for him. And while I was doing that, this guy parked in the lot and walked into the store. And he was carrying a big-ass rifle. I don’t know why.
And nobody got upset. If he’d actually wanted to cause trouble he’d have been obliterated, and everybody knew it. So there was no problem.
I love this place.