And One for Ninja Turtles Riding Dinosaurs
We met an Australian dude named Bob who wanted to experience a true novelty: going shooting with real, red-blooded Americans. Will and I always aim to please, so we decided to help out Bob with his most noble quest. We took Bob to the firing range, which was finally open today. Bob shot the normal package that we shot there the first time. Will and I shot a CZ-85, a K-100, a Makarov, and an HK 0.45 ACP (for a late Independence Day celebration, of course). I liked everything except the Makarov, which appeared to be a machine designed for constant jamming. Yay Russia!
There’s a gun made by the people who make the Desert Eagle. It’s a 9mm version, lovingly called the “Baby Eagle.” I really like that name, because it leads to hilarity. You can say stuff like, “Man, I really want to shoot a baby eagle today,” or “Yeah, I shot a baby eagle like ten times today. I really like the sound it makes. The only problem is how messy the baby eagle gets on the inside after you shoot it a few times.”
We also took Bob to Keleti so we could get our real train tickets to Romania. As we were getting out of the subway, the Hungarian Transport Police stopped us and started explaining in terrible English that our tickets were bad. This was false, and I did not want to pay another 6000 Hungary bucks. The Hungarian Transport Police found themselves face-to-face with an angry, assertive New Yorker. The ticket in this story has two sides (heads and tails), one for each trip in a round-trip.
Them: This side, 90 minutes. Kaput. Done.
Me: I agree. We aren’t talking about that side, though. We’re talking about this side.
Them: No good.
Me: Yes, it is.
Them: You stamp, then 90 minutes. Kaput. Done.
Me: I agree. It hasn’t been 90 minutes.
Them: You stamp it here. *points to where it says 13:21*
Me: Correct. That was at 13:21. It is now 13:41. 20 minutes is less than 90 minutes.
Them: What? Oh…oh. Is okay.
Me: Yeah, it IS okay. Bye.
I then stormed away with Will and Bob in tow. The Hungarian Transport Police never stood a chance. Back at the hostel, we grabbed our bags, cooked dinner (I did it this time), and hung out with Chris for a bit. Eventually, it was time for our train to Brasov, Romania.
We got on the train and discovered that we were bunking with four people, two Danish guys and two Mexican guys. The Danish dudes brought up the subject of American gun laws (no, this time, it really wasn’t us). The Danish guys said that the laws lead to more gun-related crimes. Will and I said that we should be able to defend ourselves / our homes and cited the British incident where a guy hit an intruder with a bat…and got arrested for doing it. That’s dumb.
In response to this, the Danish guys said, “Well, a Danish criminal would just run away if you caught him in your house.” Will’s jaw dropped, and he immediately replied, “Your criminals are pussies.” We heard the Mexican guys laughing and agreeing. Then bedtime happened.
Will’s Corner
I’m guessing most criminals wouldn’t respond well to Dr. Phil giving them a lecture while in the middle of trying to steal his shit.
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Dear Joe,
The only things that you would ever steal are the hearts of the masses.
Love,
Will and Andy
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