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As a veteran law enforcement officer, in uniform with gun belt, Jaypee Duty Holster, two amm dump pouches with 12-rounds, handcuffs-with-case, walkie-talkie with holder, swiss army knife, and beeper seems and looks like a lot to some civilians. Actually, I'm traveling light, because I'm deployed at a government building, providing security inside/outside the building along with three other deputies. This job is kinda-sorta for the old timers who are sent here for the last 'hurrah' before retirement. The building has acquired a nickname, source unknown, most likely a brother officer, of Fort Apache. At 'Fort Apache' people come who are in need of help in some shape form or fashion. There are 5-seperate mental health clinics within the building and each one can, and does, provides the troopers with some very challenging problems to deal with. These sometimes problems can come in the form of two-legged 'zombies' who have stopped taking their very needed mental health meds and have substituted alcohol/meth/mouthwash/dope of all kinds and are "OFF THE CHAIN"! When these, what we call zombies, show up its; all hands on deck! Anyway, I think the reader can rightfully assume, we are very entertained, to our expense! This is NOT an old timers job as the bosses first thought! Recently, I had to leave this 'little piece of heaven' for a much needed dental appointment. After arriving at the dentist office I was quickly ushered to the room where all of the heavy duty dental work is done. I remember thinking; "this ain't good!" I looked around the little room, packed to the max with dental torture equipment and scary 'me' looking like a deer, caught in the headlights! The dental assistant came into the room and ask me to sit down in the reclining seat and to rinse my mouth out with the mouthwash located close to the chair. Man, I was starting to scare up big time as my mind began racing, thinking of that one instrument I dread the most, the "PICK"! I was sitting, if you can call it that, with both feet moving to a tune, not being played! I didn't have long to wait, as my dentist walked in with his big toothy grin and bright white teeth, all exposed. In the position I was sitting, my Colt was exposed enough to tell that my sidearm wern't no dad-blame Glock or M&P that all the locals down here pack. Everyone, except me, that is. My Dentist asked about my Colt (Metropolitan MK III) and, somehow, I was able to get the story out despite all those hoses and wrenches hanging out of my mouth. I shared with my Dentist the 'how' and 'why' I still retain a .38 Special Service Revolver instead of the state of the art Glock and recent M&P Pistol. I explain to Doc, with much passion and enthusiasim, why I carry a Colt .38, why I think semi-autos are 'not' an advantage, but can actually be the opposite. And yes, Doc, even the Glocks jam up once in a while. We have a class just on that issue alone! But at the end, my Dentist smiled, and asked if he could examine my Colt. He looked my Metro over and ask me where he could get one. You have convinced me that a good 'revolver' will serve my needs just fine. I don't know, maybe I did help him, but I know this; he ain't going to ride to a local gunshop and pick up a Colt Metropolitan MK III. At least around here! Thank you my friends!
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