Surprisingly, despite that 99 percent of those in attendance at this event probably buy most of their goods from market giants like Wal-Mart, the shady gun show itself is not a one-stop shop. There was nary a blaze orange ammo belt to be found! What the hell kind of gun show was this?! A goddamn book fair?!
Anyway, shoveling aside our disappointment, we decided to ask one of the vendors, a man whose facial hair was so bizarre, so wacky that I'm not even sure words can describe it. It was as if a Hostess Snowball got stuck directly in the middle of this guy's chin. I'm not sure if it was an oversized soul patch or just a misplaced goatee, but whatever the hell it was, that sh*t was
But puffy, white goat-patch aside, this man looked like the only person in attendance not ready to snipe The Law and I out. (After all, I did take a photograph, which, as you might recall from Part 1 of this saga, "Is the quickest way to get kicked out and arrested!" And by "kicked out and arrested," I'm pretty sure the man who drawled that meant "shot in the face." Bang. "Several times." Bang, bang.) However, apparently Goat-Patch, the most non-threatening man at the gun show, also ended up being the most retarded.
Me: Excuse me, sir? Do you know where we could find some shooting outerwear?
Goat-Patch: What? Outerwear? You mean like clothing?
The Law: Like a vest, for instance.
G-P: Oh. Well, you're not going to find any in here. But there's a store, "Grangers," where you can get all kinds of shooting clothing: hats, shirts, boots and, pardon the expression, socks.
Time out. Did this man just excuse himself for saying "socks"? The Law and I both held back our laughter (remember, this guy was surrouned by a bunch of guns) and wondered to ourselves if socks was some sort of perverted euphemism in the illegal gun-show world. We would soon find out, however, that (luckily) it's not.
Me: Um...Grangers? Where is this? That sounds pretty much like exactly what we're looking for.
G-P: Oh it ain't too far. Just down 95. You get off at Route 3. It's across from BJs, but if you see the Chick-Fil-A, you need to turn around. That Chick-Fil-A means you went too dang far then.
The Law: Do you know how long it takes to get there?
G-P: Oh, not long. Maybe 10 minutes. You can't miss it. Just make sure you don't pass that Chick-Fil-A. Grangers is great! You can get vests, jackets, coats and, pardon the expression, trousers.
Time out again. He seriously just said it again; he unnecessarily excused himself for the second time for saying a very benign word -- trousers!
This time I couldn't hold in my laughter. I did one of those snorty giggles that happen when you try hard but fail to control yourself from busting out in a full-out LOL. Luckily, ol' Goat-Patch was not so quick on the uptake, so he was oblivious to what was going on. Instead, he drew us a map to "Grangers," which consisted of a curved line. Totally useful. Not. (Yeah, I just took my jokes old school.)
But you know what would've been useful? If he had given us the goddamn correct name of the store. It's called Ganders, not Grangers. Luckily though, Goat-Patch's broken-record-esque fascination with repeating the name "Chick-Fil-A" let us know to turn around.
The Law: Um, so he definitely must have meant Ganders.
Me: Pardon the expression, probably.
And to put the
However, lest you think our
Lookin' good, The Law, lookin' good.
Stay tuned for Part III -- "Marissa Re-Discovers Rompers; Looks Even More Like a Jackass."