Tuesday, January 21, 2020


Three days in the desert and already my bodyweight is probably sixty percent dry-ass dead skin cells.

This is my third year of covering SHOT for RECOIL, and since they put us up in a hotel right across the street from the convention center, I didn't bother bringing a blaster.

Gasp. Shock.

Look, I know some people...plenty, actually...roll dirty in Vegas, but considering that practically my entire time here is spent either in the hotel or the convention center or walking between them during normal business hours, I'm pretty comfortable with my Vegas odds and a can of pepper spray. Besides, this trip is pretty much the only time I fly without checking guns, so it's interesting to see how normies experience air travel. (Curbside baggage check, for instance, is not normally a thing I get to do.)

Also, I haven't worn a belt in three days, which is really novel for me.

Hotel POTUS at sunrise, as seen from the 28th floor of Treasure Island