Testosterone Overload

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While most other women were out doing their last minute Christmas shopping today, I spent four hours in a gun show. In Louisiana. Picture a massive hall filled with long-haired, bearded bikers in leathers and chains, and good ole boys in baseball caps and t-shirts that say SUPPORT OUR TROOPS, many with rifles or shotguns slung over their shoulders and revolvers stuck in their belts, all drooling over Uzis and Glocks, Sigs and Winchesters. At one point I looked around and realized I was one of maybe six or eight females present. The testosterone was so thick that it was virtually toxic even to breathe.

What was I doing there? Well, part of it was research. Writing a contemporary thriller series has inspired me with the desire to be more familiar with a variety of weapons, including things like machine pistols, which I have never handled.

I grew up with guns. My dad, an Air Force intelligence officer who carried a gun in civilian clothes, was an avid hunter. And I’m married to a retired Army colonel. But I have to admit that today disturbed me. I spent many years living in Australia, where guns are illegal and, as a result, the national murder rate is equal to about one week’s worth of kills here in New Orleans. At one point today I watched a young Asian dude buy a Desert Eagle, an M1, a bulletproof vest, and a belly belt (for carrying concealed). And I thought, Hello! Does no one else find this the least bit scary/alarming?!

Nevertheless, I have to admit I had fun. They had some great guns there—revolvers from the Civil War and a gorgeous 1871 Winchester. And I saw a really nice Springfield Armory 1911-A1 Pistol with a cocobolo wood grip and stainless finish that I liked. Just over $900 dollars…