The gun show was okay -- no guns, as I'm waiting for the check I got for the last bit of work to come in -- but I got some alligator bones for a few bucks, from a guy who was selling them for use as knife handles, and I ran into Jack, my local dealer, there, so we stopped for a bit to chat. I noticed that there seemed to be more people selling their personal guns than I'd seen the last time -- lots of dudes with rifles slung over their shoulders walking around inside and just outside the show -- and asked Jack if he thought it was sign of folks' economic worries. Jack said it didn't seem out of the ordinary to him, but he hadn't really thought about it. It might have been that I was there Saturday morning, and I usually go later in the day or weekend. We discussed legalities of gun-selling some, as hjcallipygian was interested in those.
I do think some folks are getting squeezed, though: one of my objects of acquisition is the Colt Python, and I keep an eye out for them at shows. This was the first Jacksonville show I'd seen more than one for sale at; there were three or four, and since the Python is a dandy gun beloved by those who own it, I guess that some folks are selling theirs to make extra cash. They're still pricey, though, so the dealers don't feel much imperative to mark 'em down yet.
Politics, as ever, reared its head at the show: I was amused to see that one shop had lined its many tables with pictures of Barack Obama as a motivator to fence-leaners who were worried about potential anti-gun legislation under an Obama administration. "He's coming! BUY BEFORE IT'S TOO LATE." But not as amused as I was to find out that Obama was actually in town and speaking at the stadium, which was literally *three or four blocks away from the gun show.* The crowds mingled amicably and with some amusement, but can you imagine the reaction of the guy heading Obama's Secret Service detail? ("Wait, we're three blocks away from WHAT?! WHO THE HELL SCHEDULED THIS GODDAMN THING?!?!") I didn't go see Obama speak -- I've already seen him in person, as I once sat two rows behind him on an airplane -- but Ash and Denise did, and they really enjoyed the rally.
Meanwhile, we went on to Wild Wings Cafe for the game. The game was great, and the wings were, too. I like spicy stuff every once in a while, so I ordered the China Syndrome wings, which are peppery and hot and carried a menu rating of five chilis. Those went down well, but between them and the other samplers I didn't need much more food. So I perused the menu and asked a question of the waitress.
HINES. "Okay, now, Habanero Hots has ratings of five chilis and a medal, but the Braveheart has a medal and a little black cloud. Which is -- "
WAITRESS. "The Braveheart."
HINES. "How hot is it?"
WAITRESS. "For seventy-five cents, you can find out."
...could any of you refuse that challenge?
I thought not.
Seventy-five cents later: I ate slower than this guy. But his experience bears a striking resemblance to my own.
I soothed my pain with a glass of milk and a drink new to me: the Rumdinger, invented by Bruce Campbell. It is simplicity itself: one part dark rum (Myers or similar), one part Kahlua, one part ginger ale, served on the rocks. It is remarkably delicious, especially after you've had a few sips and let the ice melt a little.