Almost Outed - Amusing Case
Posted: Tue Apr 28, 2009 11:50 am
My concealed carry was almost outed while I was visiting a friend. My friend owns and manages an apartment complex, located in a kind of seedy part of town. He asked me to take a look at his computer that was having problems.
My friend knows that I have a CHL and that I carry all the time. While I was on my way to his apartment office, he telephoned me and told me that he would be late, and that I should go into the office and get started. He said that the maid knew I was coming and would let me into the office.
I arrived and spoked to the maid. She let me into the office as promised. The office door is protected by another door made of iron bars. The iron bar door is normally padlocked. Because I was there, the maid placed the padlock in its normal spot, but unlocked, so I could leave if needed.
I quickly identified the computer problem and fixed it. There was nothing more to do except wait for my friend to arrive. I went to the iron door to look outside, mostly because the maid was cute. It was also interesting to see the various tenants pass by. Some of them looked rather shady.
I saw the maintenance man talking to someone. He noticed me and seemed surprised to see someone in the office. I nodded a hello because we met on a previous visit. The maintenance man looked at me strangely, as if he didn't recognize me, and began walking toward me.
He approached the door, looked at me suspiciously, and said, "Mr. C doesn't allow anyone in the office when he's gone."
At first I thought he was joking, but realized that he simply did not remember me.
"I know," I replied. "I have permission. I'm working on his computer."
The maintenance man paused, looked at me again, and said, "Do I know you?"
"Yes," I answered. "You, Mr. C, and I had a few beers the last time I was here."
"That's right!" he exclaimed. "I remember." He was still looking at me suspiciously. He seemed to remember me, but was still unsure about me. Maybe I was a bad guy trying to fool him. He gazed at my waist; probably to see if was armed.
He pretended to be friendly but was clearly overly friendly. "Open this door," he said, "And let me give my friend a hug." He wasn't the hugging type. I think he wanted to pat me down.
He fumbled for the padlock and tried to slide it out of the iron bar door, but was having trouble. It takes a little patience to snake the hand perfectly between the bars and lift the padlock. He was in a rush and failed to do it correctly. I moved close to the door to offer assistance. The padlock was easier to handle from inside of the office.
When I got close to the door, he quickly reached through the iron bars with his right arm and pretended to hug me. His arm slipped around my waist. As it did, I turned a little so that he would have a longer reach to locate my right-side kidney-carry position. It worked perfectly. His hands went past the mag pouches on my left, but not go far enough reach my gun. His fake hug found nothing but the empty small of my back.
He backed away from the door, smiled, and said, "It's good to see you again. Mr. C will be back soon."
Satisfied that I was unarmed and harmless, he returned to his work. When Mr. C finally got to the office, I told him the experience, and we both laughed about it. Nothing would have happened if the maintenance man discovered my gun. I just don't want him to know. Mr. C knows and that's good enough.
My friend knows that I have a CHL and that I carry all the time. While I was on my way to his apartment office, he telephoned me and told me that he would be late, and that I should go into the office and get started. He said that the maid knew I was coming and would let me into the office.
I arrived and spoked to the maid. She let me into the office as promised. The office door is protected by another door made of iron bars. The iron bar door is normally padlocked. Because I was there, the maid placed the padlock in its normal spot, but unlocked, so I could leave if needed.
I quickly identified the computer problem and fixed it. There was nothing more to do except wait for my friend to arrive. I went to the iron door to look outside, mostly because the maid was cute. It was also interesting to see the various tenants pass by. Some of them looked rather shady.
I saw the maintenance man talking to someone. He noticed me and seemed surprised to see someone in the office. I nodded a hello because we met on a previous visit. The maintenance man looked at me strangely, as if he didn't recognize me, and began walking toward me.
He approached the door, looked at me suspiciously, and said, "Mr. C doesn't allow anyone in the office when he's gone."
At first I thought he was joking, but realized that he simply did not remember me.
"I know," I replied. "I have permission. I'm working on his computer."
The maintenance man paused, looked at me again, and said, "Do I know you?"
"Yes," I answered. "You, Mr. C, and I had a few beers the last time I was here."
"That's right!" he exclaimed. "I remember." He was still looking at me suspiciously. He seemed to remember me, but was still unsure about me. Maybe I was a bad guy trying to fool him. He gazed at my waist; probably to see if was armed.
He pretended to be friendly but was clearly overly friendly. "Open this door," he said, "And let me give my friend a hug." He wasn't the hugging type. I think he wanted to pat me down.
He fumbled for the padlock and tried to slide it out of the iron bar door, but was having trouble. It takes a little patience to snake the hand perfectly between the bars and lift the padlock. He was in a rush and failed to do it correctly. I moved close to the door to offer assistance. The padlock was easier to handle from inside of the office.
When I got close to the door, he quickly reached through the iron bars with his right arm and pretended to hug me. His arm slipped around my waist. As it did, I turned a little so that he would have a longer reach to locate my right-side kidney-carry position. It worked perfectly. His hands went past the mag pouches on my left, but not go far enough reach my gun. His fake hug found nothing but the empty small of my back.
He backed away from the door, smiled, and said, "It's good to see you again. Mr. C will be back soon."
Satisfied that I was unarmed and harmless, he returned to his work. When Mr. C finally got to the office, I told him the experience, and we both laughed about it. Nothing would have happened if the maintenance man discovered my gun. I just don't want him to know. Mr. C knows and that's good enough.
Which reminds me, everyone steer clear of Flintknapper...he's always up to his armpits in feral swine! 
