The Southwest - Part 18

Totally still August 29th - "You know what we need man?  Some rope."

I'm told that after the Double Down Saloon, we headed over to eat at the Pink Taco.  I'm told this, because I don't really remember.  Apparently the food was delicious.

The next thing I do remember is staring at a wall of assault rifles in the sports store.  We had walked in to buy a low-profile tent, since the wind had nearly stolen ours a few times in Utah. 

So the "camping section" consisted of two tents, a cooking stove, and enough firepower to invade a small country.

Apparently, when Americans go camping, they make ready to defend the Alamo.  Cause that worked out so well the first time.

In front of me was a dizzying array of fully automatic weapons, each boasting about its considerable "stopping power".  You know, in case the deer is wearing body armor. 

Over forty high-powered rifles to choose from.  And two tents.

I couldn't resist inquiring.  The nice lady behind the counter informed me that a customer can walk in, choose something particularly lethal, and - after a cursory security check which amounts to little more than a literacy test -  walk out with their assault rifle the same day.  Ammo is by the register.  Next to the gum.

There was something in her voice I couldn't quite place until afterward, me being intoxicated and all.

It was pride.