As a reader of this blog, you know that one major goal of being in the van was to spend more time in places with people I didn’t necessarily agree with.
Though it was an undoubtedly ambitious (perhaps overly-ambitious) goal, I used this ethos to guide me towards some experiences I normally would have an instinct to avoid. I knew that at-times, I had to make myself uncomfortable to experience something truly different than our typical bend toward centering our own world and values.
I was rolling through Mississippi on some back roads when I came upon Laurel, Mississippi, a town of 16,000. I saw an opportunity to get far outside my ‘comfort zone’ via tons of large signs advertising a Gun Show. And while that wasn’t in my plan for the day, and was hardly the place I most wanted to go, I decided to check my bias— and check it out.
It didn’t open for a few hours (I had an early start), so I elected to go into town for breakfast. The town of Laurel was an odd mix of dilapidated and resurrected— clearly, there was a mix of people with plenty of resources, and some with nearly none.
I crammed as many biscuits as possible into my mouth during my spring in the South, and today was no exception. I got a delicious 2-biscuit breakfast at a place called Grits & Some, which was counter-serve but had some of the charm of an old diner.
The food was simply delicious— especially the biscuits and grits. Though, I have some questions about why ‘cheesy grits’ came with shredded cheese thrown on top, rather than mixed throughout— but I wasn’t complaining. The texture of the grits was spot-on.
It was then that I saw one of the oddest things I’d seen in my time on the road. Being curious, I always pick up the local newspaper when I arrive in a town— and there were several copies of the ‘Laurel Leader Call’ sitting around to peruse.
The headline “Sick Puppy” caught me— so I asked the lady at the register what it was all about. And she turned her voice way low, and whispered to me that a local woman was caught having sex with a dog for a SECOND time. And as that news didn’t much jive with keeping breakfast down, I left that particular article unread.
As I could quickly tell by perusing the other articles, this newspaper wasn’t even making an attempt at impartiality— it was biased as hell, and NOT just in the Opinion section. Although the Opinion section was full of hot takes like “Dads are the best crime antidotes” and “America Last agenda sickening to see in current budget talks” (about Joe Biden, of course)— this particular Opinion section seemed designed to embrace the patriarchy, the conservative movement, and torch absolutely everything (and everyone) else. It was a reminder that ‘local news’ churns out this stuff to millions every week.
I finished up my plate and headed for the door— I wanted to be to the gun show early.
When I arrived, I was stunned by a sign near the door asking for ‘clear bags only’— it would seem that even at a weapons show, security was tight for… firearms and weapons. This was a head-scratcher for me— I’d assumed advocates of Open Carry would have wanted gun shows to be a loaded weapon free-for-all, but this was not the case.
I showed my ID at the door, received a stamp that said “Ammo” — I’m assuming because at my age, I was legally allowed to buy it. And into the venue I walked.
I’ve shot a gun on multiple occasions before, so weapons are not entirely foreign to me. But there’s something about being surrounded by hundreds of working weapons and people who are dedicated to using them that was a bit unsettling. EVERYONE was packing.
I’m sure that for others, the feeling is the opposite— but I felt my heart palpitate a little faster as I moved throughout the tables. My “you’re really not in Kansas anymore” moment was one that distilled just how deadly this merchandise was— a purveyor of field medical kits was one of the first tables I sought out.
But these were not typical first-aid kits, they were trauma kits. Talking to the gentleman who ran it, he and his wife were former EMTs that developed first aid kits for life-threatening gunshot wounds.
Basically, they created kits to have on-hand in case anything catastrophic happened with one of these firearms— a clear reminder these were weapons, not just entirely capable of— but designed to— explode, rip apart, and tear through flesh.
The proprietor described the kits in detail— which to have on-hand for what kind of injury. I was flabbergasted– here was an entire science devoted to saving a life from the harm caused by the weapons laid-out all around me. I moved on to the next booth.
Spaces that cater to second amendment supporters tend to become spaces for some pretty radical right-wing sentiments. And this was no different— from patches saying “Make America Straight Again” to “Pedo Joe” to “Amateur Gynecologist”— it was all the same terribleness I would have expected.
But the humans at the gun show were not terrible, no way. They were far more kind than this hard-nosed, a$$hole persona displayed by these patches (which left me wondering why this amount of posturing was really required, for God’s sake).
I spoke with many of the sellers, asked about their wares, and found them to be affable, even sweet. A handful of the older men at one table talked to me extensively about the elder scams they experienced, as I mentioned my own dad’s concerns about these scammers.
One of the folks who stuck with me was one of the only female proprietors of a table– calling her business Mermaid (with guns!) Security, the logo was charming. She sold a combination of kevlar vests (see the right side for results of bullets stopped in their tracks), and RUBBER DUCKIES.
Yes, she also sold rubber duckies for $1 apiece.
There’s no spectacular arc to this post– I didn’t have a Hallmark Movie moment and hug the people I spoke with, and of course– I didn’t solve the divide between left and right in America.
None of that was my intention, anyway. I had intended to come and spend time in a space that wasn’t one I would typically seek out– and talk with people to understand their perspective a little better. And I did that. Having put 60,000 miles on my van in the previous two years– Gun Shows were some of the most common ads I saw on the road… so I felt that visiting one in a small town would be a requisite for TRULY traveling in America.
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