An Airsofter's Journey: Part the Twoth

If you haven't read up on Trevor's airsoft journey, read part one.


As I drove toward the airsoft store, my mind turned naturally to more manly (read: violent) things. I first pondered the Revolutionary War, when our founding fathers waged a war for life, liberty, and that Will Smith movie. World War I, when the world was made safe for democracy . . . until about twenty years later, when we realized fate had played a trick on us and it was actually World War II that was to make the world safe for democracy. The first one was a dry run. Then finally the war we find ourselves currently in, once again to spread the amazing blessing of democracy, whether or not the receiving party is interested in having it. You can never have too much democracy. Even Ben Franklin agreed when he said that democracy is two lambs and a wolf deciding what to have for dinner. Or maybe it's the other way around . . . Regardless, it seems like Plato was right. "Only the dead have seen the end of war." Thank goodness the U.S. and I are alive and well! 'Cause I'm about to get my airsoft on!


As I walked through the door of the airsoft store, I stopped dead with wonder. Gleaming cases of hard black awesomeness confronted me. Powerful handguns sat behind shiny glass, while slender, assassination-looking snipers hung from the walls behind, communicating a very clear message . . . "It's go time." However, I drew myself finally away from these firesticks of doom in order to check out the main attraction; the assault rifles. The M15A4! The SAR M41! The G36E, C, and K! The 1AC 8MIN and the C.Q.B. version, 1AR 5MIN! Amazing! The store owner sauntered over. "'Sup bro." He said. "What can I do for ya?" He made me feel so inadequate. He seemed so knowledgeable, so in-control . . . that and he was wearing one of those shirts that say "You're ugly and that's sad." I checked my visage in the glass case, just to make sure the shirt wasn't telling the truth, and proceeded to inform him that he could, indeed, be of assistance.

"I'm looking for a killer gun," I said, "One that'll really blow the competition away."
He said I'd come to the right place.
"You've come to the right place."
"Thanks," I said, "I heard you the first time."
Ouch. Not the right foot to start off on. He put on his jacket. It said "Hating you makes me warm inside." I found myself hoping he wouldn't turn his hat around. I had a feeling I didn't want to know what was written on the front of it. Undeterred, I forged ahead. "I'm looking for an assault rifle. Maybe one of those, M type ones? M14, 15, 16 . . . or maybe an advanced version of the G36, like a G37?" No! The hat was being turned around! "Hey you made me throw up a little" it said. Blast! But I hadn't come here to look smart. I'd come to get me a man-toy. "Which one would you recommend?" I asked. Bingo. Right question. I'd placed him back on his own ground. Interpersonal relations was not his forte. Toy guns that look real was. "Well I personally would go with the Tokyo Marui SIG 552. That's what I normally use." That sounded really cool. "How much do those go for?" I asked. "Like 40, 50 bucks?" "Hahaha! Try four or five times that buddy!" "Hahaha!" I laughed along with him, "Hahahaha! Hahaha!" We both had a good laugh about that.

Then I realized he was serious.

"That's a little pricey . . . " I said. "What could I get for say . . . $40?"
"Well," He replied, "You could get out of my store."
"Hahaha!" I laughed. "Hahahaha!" We both had a good laugh about that.

Then I realized he was serious about that too.

"Alright alright . . . I guess I'll spring for a G36. But do you think you could give me a break in the price? Maybe . . . maybe $250?" The way his eyes rolled back into his head was my signal that the answer was "No." I wondered, were all airsoft personnel this socially depraved? It seemed that they had no soul . . . it brought to mind Kirby Gowen in cross examination. You beg in your mind for him to stop, but he just keeps going. And going. And going. He's like the Energizer Bunny with a flow pad. And no soul. This strengthened me. If I couldn't beat Kirby in a debate round, I would beat him metaphorically by purchasing this outrageously expensive gun! I would not bow to the merciless Capitalists on the other end of the deal, taunting me with a product that they knew I had to have, but making it exorbitantly pricey! I would buy that gun!

And so I did. With a gleam in my eye I pulled out my $40 dollars . . . and my debit card. I bought that sucker. I bought a battery, and bb's, and eye protection, and a charger. And it felt good.

Then, as I was walking out to my car, I realized the joke was on me. The metaphorical Kirby had beaten me again. I had fallen for the cross examination of the Capitalists. They dared me to give the wrong answer, and I had. They'd made me give them exactly what they were getting at.

Darn that Free Market!

Darn those airsofters!

Darn that metaphorical Kirby!