The Word Show

On Day II of our Austin visit, we awoke at dawn with a deep hunger for Mexican carbs, leisurely aquatic flotation, and shooting high-powered firearms. Little did we know how well, by day’s end, we would sate this mutli-pronged hunger.

For the best breakfast in Austin, more than one person had heartily recommended “Juan In A Million” – a quaint Mexican restaurant in East Austin. So we motored out there, and were greeted by the jolliest manager/owner I’d ever encountered. The man seemed genuinely delighted that we’d decided to dine at his establishment – as if there weren’t a continuous stream of willing patrons waiting to enter, which there was. Think of the snobbiest maitre d’ at the most exclusive French restaurant, and this Mexican gentleman was the exact opposite. We all went for the “Don Juan” breakfast – a comically huge mishmash of eggs, potatoes, bacon, tortilla flour, and cheese, all for the low price of $4.99. It was unbelievably good. So good, in fact, that we felt compelled to leave nothing on our plates. This was bad, because the heaping plates contained roughly twice as much food as a normal-sized human should ever consume in one sitting. Needless to say, by the end of the breakfast, I felt enormously satisfied, seriously bloated, nauseous, whale-like, and fairly immobile. I did not feel like Don Juan. I felt like a fattened a hog, and I was proud of it. I felt like a Texan.

After Juan’s, we hopped back into White Heat and headed out to Red’s Indoor Range. Yes, we were going to shoot us some guns. As one might expect of a Texan gun store, the walls are lined with the sort of heavy artillery you’d previously seen only in high-budget action movies. Hunting rifles, shotguns, automatic assault rifles with laser-sights…it was pretty intense. It was the visual response to the question “why kill a deer with a clean, single shot from a hunting rifle, when you can send him to his maker with two dozen rounds of rapidly-dispensed exploding tip bullets? That’s progress for you.

After a quick lesson in firearm safety from one of the salesmen, and then laughing uncomfortably at a weird joke he made about killing infidels, we were granted access to the firing range. The three of us shared the first gun we rented – a .22 caliber revolver. Pretty much the Toyota Camry of pistols – simple, reliable, unexciting, but very effective. Guy and Evan both managed to cause decent damage to their targets with the revolver, but I’d failed miserably. Would this be the space shuttle landing simulator all over again? What was wrong with me? I’ll tell you, dear reader, what was wrong: it wasn’t enough firepower, apparently, as when we stepped up to the more-powerful Glock 9mm semi-automatic pistol, I ended up nailing the centre of the target, as if I’d been doing so for years. I am, apparently, a stone-cold mofo; a smooth operator.

Actually, I wasn’t. Handling and firing a Glock was exciting, but also deeply unsettling. I was constantly aware of the amount of firepower – and, indeed, KILLING power – i was harnessing in the palm of my hand. It’s amazing how much noise and how much recoil the little thing is capable of. It’s a strange feeling – perhaps addictive to some, but certainly not to me. If I was sure of anything after firing it, it was that I never wanted to get shot by a Glock. I feel like that would be enormously unpleasant.

After emptying a dozen rounds into the target with the 9mm, it was time to trot out the big stick – the AK. The Kalashnikov AK-47 has been, for decades, the preferred rifle of countless armies, militias, terrorists, child soldiers, and, today, Red’s Indoor Firing Range. This gun’s most impressive trait was not its power – there are surely bigger and badder guns out there – its how mechanically simple it is. Bullets go in here, pull back a spring-loaded lever there, reload here, point there, and fire away. You can even submerge it in water, shake it dry, and it will still work. Brilliant. No wonder everyone uses it. It was fun to shoot – all you had to do was make sure the butt of the rifle was firmly tucked under your arm, otherwise the gun’s kickback would overwhelm you. That said, i did relish the idea of getting a visible bruise from firing a too-powerful machine gun – how awesome a weekend war story would that make

Stranger: “Dude, what’s with your bruised shoulder?”

Me: “Oh, haha, yeah, that was from the recoil of the AK-47 I was firing over the weekend. No big deal really. How was your weekend? Get up to anything?”

The writer getting into character

We left Red’s $120 poorer, but undoubtedly richer in life experience. The main take-aways for us were 1) guns are bad ass, 2) guns are scary, and 3) when at all possible, it’s best to avoid getting shot by a gun. Indeed, words to live by.

Tomorrow…Tubing and Texas Wrap-Up!