(no subject)
Since I mentioned that "adventures of the armed, locked and loaded redneck at that truck stop in Georgia (.357 AND 12 guage!)" in an earlier entry, and we are headed down that same road tonight, I'll recap the fun, in case we disappear.
We were driving down I-16 in Georgia to go to my parents' house for Easter, when, lo and behold, Lise had to pee. The next exit indicated some places with restrooms, so I took it. There was a BIG TRUCKSTOP, and a small truckstop. We went to the small one. More of a country store, with a pool table, racks of junk food, coffee, and some food warmers under glass with paleolithic foodstuffs. A coupla good old boys, and gals, were there, sitting by the door, chatting. Well, the restrooms are not in danger of being featured in Home and Garden anytime soon, but it flushed. I got out first, and cruised the aisles for Coke and a snack. There were folks around the counter, so I hung back in the aisles, waiting for Lise to get out and see if she wanted anything, to get it rung up together.
Then two redneck guys came strolling in from outside, packing heat. One pump-action .12 Guage Shotgun, and two rather large revolvers. I took in the situation, and deemed it not overly dangerous (as in hold-up dangerous) and held my position, six or eight feet from the counter, holding my Coke and Snickers. The lead redneck, with the boom stick, went behind the counter and proceded to start loading shotgun shells. The woman behind the counter yelled at him to not load that thang in there, just before he racked a shell into the chamber with that oh-so-distinctive noise. About this time Lise enters the picture. Lead Redneck then is handed one big-ass revolver from the Assistant Redneck, and he flips it open and says, "OOOOO-Dogie! Them there's .357 Magnums!" or some such outbust, as his dialect was some distant relation of, yet somehow similar to English. The lady (and I do use that term loosely) behind the counter apparently thought I was hanging back due to the brandishing of locked-and-loaded firearms at the cash register, when I had planted myself there in order to consolidate our purchase. Lise was somehow not hungry at the moment, and I proceded to go up and pay the Lead Redneck, whose hands were temporarily empty of firearms. He kindly offered my the use of one of his pistols, in case I felt I could use it, but upon assessing our needs, I politely declined. There has apparently been some sort of disturbance, but since the recounting of which was being expressed in the local vernacular, many details may be sketchy. The gist of it is two black guys did something, and there may have been a helicopter involved. Or a "Hell of a Copper", I'm not entirely confident in my translation skills. More than likely the most action that wide spot in the road had seen in years, but just in case lightning struck twice and it happened again that same night, those boys were ready.
We were driving down I-16 in Georgia to go to my parents' house for Easter, when, lo and behold, Lise had to pee. The next exit indicated some places with restrooms, so I took it. There was a BIG TRUCKSTOP, and a small truckstop. We went to the small one. More of a country store, with a pool table, racks of junk food, coffee, and some food warmers under glass with paleolithic foodstuffs. A coupla good old boys, and gals, were there, sitting by the door, chatting. Well, the restrooms are not in danger of being featured in Home and Garden anytime soon, but it flushed. I got out first, and cruised the aisles for Coke and a snack. There were folks around the counter, so I hung back in the aisles, waiting for Lise to get out and see if she wanted anything, to get it rung up together.
Then two redneck guys came strolling in from outside, packing heat. One pump-action .12 Guage Shotgun, and two rather large revolvers. I took in the situation, and deemed it not overly dangerous (as in hold-up dangerous) and held my position, six or eight feet from the counter, holding my Coke and Snickers. The lead redneck, with the boom stick, went behind the counter and proceded to start loading shotgun shells. The woman behind the counter yelled at him to not load that thang in there, just before he racked a shell into the chamber with that oh-so-distinctive noise. About this time Lise enters the picture. Lead Redneck then is handed one big-ass revolver from the Assistant Redneck, and he flips it open and says, "OOOOO-Dogie! Them there's .357 Magnums!" or some such outbust, as his dialect was some distant relation of, yet somehow similar to English. The lady (and I do use that term loosely) behind the counter apparently thought I was hanging back due to the brandishing of locked-and-loaded firearms at the cash register, when I had planted myself there in order to consolidate our purchase. Lise was somehow not hungry at the moment, and I proceded to go up and pay the Lead Redneck, whose hands were temporarily empty of firearms. He kindly offered my the use of one of his pistols, in case I felt I could use it, but upon assessing our needs, I politely declined. There has apparently been some sort of disturbance, but since the recounting of which was being expressed in the local vernacular, many details may be sketchy. The gist of it is two black guys did something, and there may have been a helicopter involved. Or a "Hell of a Copper", I'm not entirely confident in my translation skills. More than likely the most action that wide spot in the road had seen in years, but just in case lightning struck twice and it happened again that same night, those boys were ready.