I was getting off the train in Dun Laoghaire this morning, while trying to put the SCA Known World Handbook in my bag as I walked, and nearly crashed into someone. The reason I nearly crashed into her was that she was about five feet tall, and the only sign of her presence at my eye level was an antenna sticking out of the huge green pack she was carrying. I stepped back, and followed the usual routine for when I've been spending too much time in Davon rather than Dublin, which is to bow slightly and sweep out an arm in the direction of travel. And then I saw her properly. She was about five feet tall, black, dressed in army camo gear, dark glasses, with a stars-and-stripes bandana on her head, a pack nearly as big as she was with a load of radio gear in the top - and a machine gun. I don't know one gun from another, but this was definitely something that meant business. She took a step back, looked at me over the shades... and then said, in a good solid Deep South accent "Hail, and well met!" and walked past me onto the train just as the doors closed.
I think I stood there gaping for a minute. I'm telling you, the weird follows me around.
I think I stood there gaping for a minute. I'm telling you, the weird follows me around.
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But yeah, openly and casually.
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Wish it was a story - the notion of diminutive gunpersons wandering the suburbs greeting strangers in archaic fashion is distinctly unsettling...
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Very cool random encounter. My random encounters are usually with slightly scary, stalkerish middle-aged men. I seem to be a weirdo magnet. Why couldn't I be an attractive-single-straight-guy magnet?
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Guns scary weird.
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Gun scary weird indeed.
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Not that I don't do it myself, now and then, but it 'tis far rarer to have it happen to me. :-)
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