The term FBI camp means something to you. You have a drawer in your house dedicated to holsters. You have a daytime caliber and a nighttime caliber. You have a love-hate relationship with New York.
You hate California. You have summer time ammo. You have winter time ammo. You use your gun as a resting platform whenever you’re standing in line. You hate safeties unless they’re on 1911s.
You have a reciprocity map app on your phone. After user bending, you now squat. She people watches. You watch people to see who’s carrying. You’ve mistakenly handed over your concealed carry license instead of your driver’s license.
You won’t buy you defense ammo from Wal-Mart. You know the speed and velocity of every major manufacturer of ammo. The clock on your wall reads like your carry positions. You carry a spare mag, a backup gun, a spare mag to the backup gun and a knife, just in case.
The only thing you really care about [phonetic] when you EDC is your gun. You’d sooner rather leave your keys in the car before you left your gun in the car. You believe sitting with your back to the door in any establishment is a sin.
You recite concealed carry laws from memory. Your favorite carry gun has a name. You work out with your gun. If you can’t carry it, you can’t wear it. Your significant other lies to you and tells you that you’re not printing when you actually are because she’s sick and tired of you asking her.
You take longer than her to get ready because you can’t figure out which generation Glock you want to carry. You automatically wish you had carried your full-size gun instead of your compact-sized gun as soon as you drive through a bad neighborhood.
Nothing pisses you off more than a bathroom without a place to put your gun. You have pre-determined excuses for when you have to suddenly go back to your car and put your gun up because you spotted the “no carry” sign. Deciding to have a drink has now become a moral dilemma.
Within the first 5 minutes of stepping in any building, you can determine what’s cover and what’s concealment. You actually know the difference between cover and concealment. The words “cocked” and “locked” are words of inspiration to you.
You suck at giving hugs. You regret naming your kid Brady. You buy holsters like she buys shoes. You have a dedicated conceal carry holster for your house. You take a death grip on your steering wheel whenever you’re pulled over.
You’d rather have your driver’s license suspended than to have your CCW permit taken away. You laugh to yourself when you see a “no carry” sign that’s not legal. One of your first holsters was a knuckle mike.