Until this evening.
Sweet Daughter and I went to our favorite local restaurant and there were maybe only a half dozen tables filled. Our waiter was professional and polite, but near the end of the meal, another of our “regular” waitresses came over and said that our waiter was wondering why a woman was carrying a pistol in plain sight with a child sitting *right there*.
Being a raging introvert, I have a hard time quickly finding a common frame of reference when talking to a stranger, especially about guns. Tonight, my back, knee and ankle hurt. It was chilly and raining. I wasn’t in the mood to play ambassador, but too bad. When I OC, that’s what I am. So, instead of muttering “BECAUSE I CAN”, or jumping up on the table with a “Shall not be infringed!!!”, I smiled and told the waitress to send him over if he wanted to talk. Instead, she said “Oh, I just told him you were FBI.”
So, as SD and I were paying the bill, our waiter came up and asked “Why?” Why did I carry a gun? Was I FBI? When I said “no”, he said … “Ah! Police state!” Once again, I replied in the negative. He insisted I was “police state”. Again, I denied it. And again. Finally, getting exasperated, I showed him the Hello Kitty stickers. “Police do not have Hello Kitty stickers on their magazines” I firmly stated. He seemed to agree.
He asked if I needed special permission to carry a pistol, and I explained that no, I did not if I carried it out in the open. I needed special permission only if I wanted to cover it up and I showed him my CHP. He seemed genuinely interested in this odd phenomena, and again he asked … “Why? Why did I do such a thing?”
I pointed at Sweet Daughter and said “To keep her safe.”
“To keep her safe.” This time, I punctuated it with a look that indicated I was dead serious. And I saw the light bulb go on over his head and he smiled at me and nodded.